


GoT Oneshots And Imagines

by rmorningstar21



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 27,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26306938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rmorningstar21/pseuds/rmorningstar21
Summary: I will add additional tags if I ever write more for this, but I would like to finally move this to AO3 (was previously posted on my wattpad - rmorningstar21).Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fanfiction using characters from the GoT world, which is trademarked by David Benioff and D. B. Weiss, originally based off of "A Song Of Ice and Fire" by George R.R. Martin.  The characters used belong to them, and I do not claim them as my own, nor do I claim you as the “reader”.
Relationships: Bronn/Reader, Jon Snow/Reader, Petyr Baelish/Reader, Sandor Clegane/Reader, Theon Greyjoy/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	1. Breaking The Oath (Jon Snow x Fem!Reader)

You were once a beloved child of Lannister blood, yet once your younger sister was born, she was the favorite. Knowing this, you held a great deal of hidden resentment towards you, but no one could actually blame you for it, nor would anyone truly know so. Cersie revered Myrcella, and eventually began to say that Myecella was her sole daughter. For whatever reason, Cersie never seemed to give you the same attention, even in the very beginning of your youth - before Myrcella was even born. As she grew, she was simply a beauty to behold, and your existence grew dimmer with each passing day. It wasn't the fact that you weren't a beauty - you were just old news, and Cersie no longer seemed to care about your existence. You wondered if that was simply the fact that your father was not Jamie Lannister, and that you were actually the daughter of Robert Baratheon himself. There was only once that they truly laid together, and from what you found out later, you were a bit of an accident. Cersie never truly wanted you as a daughter, nor a daughter to share the same blood as your father. Though you were the only true heir to the throne, you were locked away while you watched your half siblings grow from a distance. Occasionally your Uncle showed, a couple months out of each year, to see you. Your father cared, yet he did not have the strength to stand up to Cersie, so you became the dirty seceret of the throne. In actuality, it should have been the others that would have been the dirty little secrets, since none of them held your father’s blood in their veins, yet they were passed off as his children, and to an extent even he believed that they were. Cersie left very little room for doubt in his mind, despite the fact that their first born was never spoken of. There were rumors occasionally spread about your existence, but no one did look into it. More than a few times Little Fingers had inquired about you, seeing you around the castle while he was snooping. 

Robert Baratheon would never let his only true daughter be taken into the whorehouse, though. Your father was a very kind man, and so was his best friend. Those were the only two that really paid you any mind, and Ned Stark was forced to keep your existence hushed as well, due to no one wanting to enrage your mother. That didn't mean that he hadn't mentioned in passing to his wife the troubles that you faced. You were in fact the dirty little secret that your father did manage to take to his grave. Though you were not able to be at his side in his passing, which you woefully regretted, you knew it was happening. Awaiting in your room, you noticed the door spring open and a familiarly calming face entered, shutting the door quickly.

“Y/N,” Ned Stark whispered, pulling you aside in a matter of urgency. His face was spattered with grief, particularly in his deep brown eyes. Seeing him like this, you knew it was time. Robert Baratheon, your father, had without a doubt passed. Your father and he did manage to have their differences, but the love between them held strong through it all, and he had become as an Uncle to you. “I need to get you out of here.” Ned spoke fast and low, his eyes often darting back to the far door that could be opened any moment and trounce the secrecy of your meeting. Though you did not receive many visitors, you both knew with your father’s passing that it was only a matter of time for your mother to burst in with her falsified tears and manipulation. “Your father has passed, and I cannot protect you longer.” 

Your heart pained, as though he was just gone, you missed him dearly already, and more so you were being told to leave the one place you knew. Though it hurt, you knew what he could no longer protect you from, and though it should have cut deeper, it didn't. You were used to your mother's distaste, and knew now that your father was gone, you were the one standing in her way. “I understand, but where?” you asked, speaking as hushed as he, anxiety surfacing in your chest. You knew nothing of outside of King's Landing, and barely anything of outside of your own room. 

He thought for a moment, biting down lightly upon his lip. “For now, the Night's Watch is the only place you'll be safe,” he whispered to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Get your things- quickly- and meet me by the tunnels.” 

You simply nodded and rushed to grab a pack with small necessities that you may need, now that your whole world had been turned upside down. A few spare clothes and toiletries, along with the necklace your father had given you were stowed away in your pack, and your head held a swivel motion as you snuck to the tunnels. Your room was quite far from the secluded tunnels, so it took at least a half hour to reach your destination. By this point, at least, you could tell that Ned was ready for your escape. 

Ned Stark looked hurried and stressed, but handed you a cloak to place over yourself in case of recognition. He instructed you to the wall, and handed you the reins of a steed to ride for your journey. Stolen or not, you were unaware, but you thanked him quickly and took the horse as fast as it would let you, gripping tightly to the reins, your pack tapping your back as you rode and your cloak flowing lightly with the coming breeze.

Your heart sped in your chest as you rode, especially when you had escaped Kings Landing fully. The outside world was so much different than what you knew, but you pressed on to the upcoming endeavors you were sure to endure. 

***

Arriving at the wall was a frightening experience, hearing voices yelling back and forth of your arrival. You dismounted your horse and gripped the reins tightly as you entered the gates, meeting a slew of unfamiliar faces. Though you trusted your father's best friend nearly as much as your father did, it did cross your mind that you felt danger surrounding you. The Night's Watch was full of old criminals and exiled men, whom hadn't seen a woman in who knows how long. 

Fear must have shown bright in your Y/E/C eyes, because whom seemed to be the leader of the lot stated, “Miss, there’s nothing to fear. Are you lost?” A handsome man with black curly locks kindly took the reigns of your horse from you and took it off to the stable, while the Lord Commander ushered you through to the office that he had. He motioned for you to sit, and sat at his chair himself, eyeing you somewhat suspiciously. 

After a few moments of silence, you finally spoke up, “Ned Stark sent me, Sir.” Your voice was somewhat bashful and shy as the strained words came out. “He said that I'd be safe here - and that he would send for me.” Sheepishly you reached into your pack, grabbing the letter that he had given you to hand to the Lord Commander upon arrival, and reached across the desk, letting it out of your grip as he took it. 

Silently, he read it over and his jaw almost dropped to the floor visibly. In any other situation, it would earn a chuckle from you, but fear still held dear in your chest. 

“Lady Baratheon!” he spoke with a bit of bashfulness in his voice. “You must be exhausted and starved. Come with me and we can get you something to eat, and I'll have one of my men prepare you a chamber.” His words warmed you, and made you feel just the smallest bit better, though you were still quite anxious. You followed the man to the dining hall, and though nothing was nearly as nice as the castle, you felt very welcomed by the Lord Commander. That same handsome man that had taken your horse was told to fix up your chambers, while the Lord Commander sat with you as you ate. The food was relatively bland, but by this point anything would have felt like absolute Heaven in your stomach. 

***

You had learned a vast amount about the Night's Watch over your near year duration at the Wall. In that time, you had made very few friends, though it was to be expected. Many of them were ravenous for a woman's bed, and you had to keep on guard at all times, after all. The Lord Commander and Jon Snow had become closest to you, most particularly Jon himself. 

When the Lord Commander was gone, Jon had been pushed into that position, and somehow you had felt even safer with him at command. More than a few times, you had accidentally caught him staring at you with his nearly black brown orbs, and you would get lost in them yourself. 

Alone in his office area, he had drawn his attention away from his paperwork, grabbing your attention by calling your name softly. You lifted your gaze, setting it upon his handsome face, noticing the soft melancholy overtones that were etched in it this day. 

"Jon?" You questioned with a gentle tone, making him aware that you were in fact listening to him. 

His gaze met your own fully, his deep brown orbs practically boring into your own y/e/c eyes. "You have knowledge of the Night Watch's oath, yes?" He said in a soft, sad tone, making a grimace fall upon your own face. 

"Indeed, Jon, I do," you replied with an underlying hint of sadness. It was true that you knew the oath that every man who took the black agreed to, though you did not entirely agree with it. To top it off, you hated that the man you had grown so fondly for, in fact, had taken said oath as well. 

He cleared his throat, as if what he was trying to say was forming a lump in it. "So, you understand why I must honor that code," he said gently, "Though I do desire to break it." 

You frowned and walked a little closer to his desk, trying to read the expression upon it. "Break it?" You question curiously, your eyes finally noticing what was in fact behind those dark brown eyes that drove you absolutely insane. The enchanting look deep within those eyes was a reflection of what you assumed may have been apparent in your own. 

"Despite my better judgement, I do wish to," Jon said, reaching out and placing a strong hand under your chin, running his thumb against your cheekbone. "You are beautiful, inside and out, my lady." 

Your cheeks filled with deep red blush as you felt his touch, and even more so at his words. His smooth voice wavered a few times as he spoke, and yet the words came across without him even continuing onward. Regardless of it, you let him speak uninterrupted as you flustered and bloomed in the blush upon your cheeks, your breath practically hitching from the closeness that he had brought. As he spoke, he had moved himself from his chair, and stood directly in front of you. 

"I've fallen in love with you," he whispered softly, and before you had the chance to respond to him, he had you in an embrace you had not expected. His arm was strong around your waist, the other still gently holding your chin like you were a precious glass flower. Within moments, his lips gently pressed to yours, as if he were asking permission before diving right in. You obliged, returning the kiss softly at first, following a battle of passion between one another's lips. 

As the two of you kissed, you felt as if sparks were truly flying from your lips, your entire body tingling with a new sensation you had never felt before. Your arms moved to wrap around his neck, and his arm that was on your chin had joined the other at your waist, pulling you closer. Though you knew he may never marry without disgracing the Night's Watch, you hoped that one day it was possible to get around the oath of the old gods. 

The two of you separated at the point that you were both desperate for air, and a smile was strong against your features. "I have fallen deeply in love with you as well, Jon," you whispered as you caught your breath. Not even seconds later, the two of you had caught lips once more. 


	2. Arrangement Game (Petyr Baelish x Fem!Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this may be my favorite out of this entire book.

You had to fight the smirk that tugged upon your gentle lips as you heard the slightest sound of footsteps behind you as you walked the halls of the Red Keep to your current stay chambers. Though you had merely been visiting on a count of your Lord father attempting to keep a healthy alliance with the Lannisters, you knew there was only one person who would be on your tail. 

There was only one person who would wish for anything from you, and he did always happen to be a bit of a snake about any arrangement he carried. Though you knew you were being followed, you turned yourself without shown caution, not to alert your follower of your knowledge. It did happen that you enjoyed a game of wits, or, for that matter, any game with the man that was quick upon your tail. 

As you entered your chambers, you gently closed the door behind you, only to hear it not fully close. That was to be expected, of course, and you turned upon your heels to face the blue green eyes that you had grown fond of. It was not truly a secret that you found the mature Master of Coin to be a handsome Man, though you would never give hint to the man himself. That, in fact, may ruin your game. 

"Good evening, Lord Baelish," you greeted formally, with a gentle smile and a curtsey. "What is it you may need from me?" Though your speech was soft and full of fluff, the man knew you were playing a game with him. Petyr knew that you were in fact quite an intelligent woman, as he had initially learned upon your first meeting. 

Even so, his mouth upturned to a soft smirk. "I was merely checking on your well-being after your long journey, Lady Y/N," he said as the sheep, playing along with your little game. 

It was hard to stifle your laugh as you ran a finger gently through your hair, playing with one of the longer locks that draped down. Your eyes studied his, and studied his features intently as the two of you kept one another in gaze. "How kind of you, my lord," you retorted with the type of fake kindness, almost impossible to decipher. "Though I do enjoy our mental chess, it is indeed late. What value do my words speak of this eve?" 

He feigned a bit of hurt within his demeanor, which you could see clear as day. "Value?" He questioned, playing his mental pawn. "I could not put a value to the presence of your beauty gracing the Red Keep." 

You rolled your eyes, a smirk rising upon your face. There was no doubt that the man was in fact smooth, but his facade was so easy to see through. "Unless you are in fact professing your undying love to me this evening, dear Lord, we both understand what you seek." 

"And what if I may, Lady Y/N," he pressed. 

You were just about to let out an aggravated sigh, but you stopped yourself. Making your way closer to the man, you stopped merely inches from being pressed against his body. Swiftly, your right hand was brought to his cheek, and you brushed your thumb gently against his jawline. This, of course, was a new level than what he had come to expect from you, and it was visibly shown in his widening eyes. Part of his mind had refused to admit that the gentle touch provoked a more primordial desire within himself, though in fact it had, and there was a flicker shown temporarily in his facial expression. 

"Sweet Lord Baelish, you and I both are aware that your primary desires lie in power, and the information that may take you to said power," you said in a soft, almost sultry voice. "Though we could jest back and forth all evening, it is feasible that you have other matters to attend to than my company." 

He chuckled softly, and you removed your hand from his face. Even so, you could feel the soft tingles of nearly invisible stubble from his face, and you had the momentary urge to close the gap the two of you had between you. This urge was quickly quelled by your own knowledge of the snake standing before you. Though you refused to close this gap, you did not open it further, either, and had seen him momentarily shift uncomfortably. 

The two of you had gone back and forth for a while longer, thought out remarks seeming to drip from each tongue in a battle of wits. After a while, he did seem to fold, understanding that he did in fact have other matters to attend to than just your company. As you had sprinkled bits and pieces of information for him to do as he pleased with, you had simply told him this time that he would in fact make up his debt to you. 

This made him a touch uneasy, but you had a plan that you did not wish to show your cards for. It was late, and you had bid him adieu. Your plan, of course, was already set in motion, as the eldest lady of House Y/L/N, you were to get what you wished.

***

Petyr Baelish was pacing the corridors before your chambers rather flustered, and he could not help but question himself in this matter. It had been simply a few days since you had begun your visit in the Red Keep, and you were due to return home on the morrow. Your departure was not what had him pacing, though. 

He had been brought in by the King himself, with the company of your Lord father, and a few advisors. The information that he had been given in the counsel meeting was as if you were folding to his game entirely - or that he had merely played directly into your hand. 

Your valuable intel had been more than valuable for him indeed, but the morrow that the two of you had met with your mental chess banter, you had gone directly to your father. What Petyr may have surmised by this point was the fact that your Lord father had been hounding you to marry. Each kingdom needs something to continue, and being the eldest of two daughters, you were under the largest pressure to wed. 

What would not be expected was that you were handing him House Y/L/N upon a silver platter to him, a man that you knew for a fact was a snake as well as a whoremonger. How you had gotten your father to agree to the arrangement had been quite obvious - your lord father had jumped upon your request. 

Once the two of you would marry, you would become Queen Y/N, and Lord Baelish would become King of House Y/L/N. It was inconceivable in his mind that you were willing to hand that title over to him. He desired to know what possibly could be going through your mind, though his own mind reeled with the possibilities. 

His mind reeled with more than simply the possibilities, though. Part of him had simply wondered how the two of you would fit together as husband and wife, especially seeing as each time together was a constant battle for dominance. The thoughts that flew through his mind were immediately quashed as the door to your chamber opened, revealing yourself smirking gently. 

"My lord, if you desired counsel with me, you could have simply knocked," you jested, before allowing him to walk into your chambers at a quickened pace. 

Once the door was fully closed, he allowed his anger and confusion to get the best of him, pinning your small frame against the wall. You were almost caught off guard, though you were already aware of his temper. In this situation, it was more than expected. 

"What do you get out of this, Y/N?" Petyr questioned harshly, dropping all sorts of formalities with you. 

You simply smirked, saying, "If you do not wish to go through with it, dear lord, you could just inform my father." Pausing for a moment, your smirk grew. "I do not see him too pleased with the rejection, though I also fail to see you turning down the opportunity I have presented, either." 

Petyr practically growled at you, though he did release you from his grasp. He was losing his composure in front of you, which he did not wish to do in the first place. The pacing was meant for him to actually clear his mind, and yet it had sparked so many options. This arrangement refused to show him a clear path of your intention. 

"What game are you playing?" He said after a few steadying breaths. 

You chuckled softly. "My sweet Lord Baelish," you started, clearly amused. "Tell me that you would not relish in the power I will be providing you." 

"You're young, intelligent, and stunning beyond compare," he mused out, his eyes intently glaring into your own. "Yet you set yourself with a man nearly twice your age, whom you barely know." 

"You and I both know what I receive in transfer for this arrangement," you said with a slight huff, the fact that the snake was showing a new side to you being a little overwhelming. Though you had attempted to ignore the compliments, the way that he placed them upon the table actually seemed genuine. The tells that he normally wore to show that he was in fact persuading were either well hidden, or non-existent. 

He scoffed, offended. "If you think I will not bed you, you're incorrect," he said, seemingly offended. 

You rolled your eyes. "If I was afraid of you bedding me, would I ask my father to arrange this in the first place?" You retorted. 

He stared with disbelief upon his face, and you could see the faintest amount of blush that had temporarily flickered through his cheeks. It was almost cute to see, if he had not been so arrogant. "You understand that you must perform your wifely duties?" He said, somewhat shocked. 

You nodded, a light smirk upon your face. 

As he begun to go off again, trying to find the hidden meaning to why everything was happening the way it was, you finally had gotten fed up with listening to the man. If he was to be your husband, you saw no shame in it. You silenced him by pressing your lips firmly to his own, and he was taken aback by shock. Your lips had formed a soft smirk into the kiss, and he had shocked you in return by kissing you back. The two of you were awkwardly standing, until you felt his strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in closer. Instinctively, you draped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as the two of you battled for dominance with your own lips. 

Something in your stomach was turning, presumably the theoretic butterflies that you would feel when you were kissing someone you cared for. It was a hard pill to swallow, but that had been in part your underlying purpose for wedding yourself off to the snake himself. As the two of you had separated, only after both your lungs had practically been screaming for air, he rested his forehead upon your own. 

"Now, Lord Baelish, if you can truly tell me that this does not benefit you, I will call the arrangement off myself," you whispered softly. 

He faintly chuckled as he was catching his breath, whispering out, "Petyr," with a light smile. If you had enough oxygen in circulation at the time, you may have seen that he did in fact have a genuine smile upon his face. "If you are committed to this arrangement, refer to me as Petyr."

That was the reassurance that you had needed, and a smile formed upon your lips. "I am thoroughly invested in this arrangement, Petyr," you replied. Within moments, he had once again captured your lips in another passionate kiss. Though you had not shown all of your cards, you felt internally jovial with the way that your game had played out. 

On the morrow, the two of you had set out along with your father to your Kingdom, and were wed that day. Though the two of you may have not loved one another in the very beginning, and your trust may not have truly been in Petyr, time had changed both. He may have been a snake, and smooth as the day was long, but he did in fact have another side to him. The two of you did not tire of your banter, nor of your mind chess that the two of you played, though you were both now on the same side. 

You had fallen genuinely in love with your intelligent and conniving husband with time, though it may have been an upward battle. Not always would you admit your cards, and it did take a while for you to even admit little things to him, such as the attraction you held for the man prior to your engagement, wedding, or bedding. He had also grown a fond love of you, and though he was a snake, he knew that you were playing on his side now. Together, the two of you would be remarkably unstoppable. 


	3. Reek I (Theon Greyjoy x Fem!Reader)

It had been weeks since Ramsay had taken Winterfell, and with Winterfell, he had taken you as a lowly servant. You had been unfortunate enough to be helping take care of Bran when the siege took place, and were grateful that Hodor had gotten out with Bran, though you were not nearly as lucky. From that point on, you had become a multiple purpose slave for Ramsay, as a maid sometimes, someone to take out his anger upon, as well as someone he would have his way with when he was feeling up to angry sex. 

It had never been mutual, and typically landed you with a great deal of damage to your genitalia, leaving you a crying, bruised and broken mess. Your only relief during your days was the occasional visit in the barn you would get from Reek, where you would be ordered to fix up the wounds that Ramsay had given him. Though Ramsay could have just allowed him to bleed out, that would have been a great deal less fun for him. Reek was his entertainment, and his revenge. 

Reek was once the stunning, valiant, and flirtatious Theon Greyjoy, and each time you came to his aid, you stared at the face of the broken man. Tonight, you were trying to be as gentle as possible, knowing that Ramsay had beaten Reek far worse than usual. The tears that you could see staining his beaten face merely confirmed the awful chorus of screams you had listened to prior. 

Your hands shook slightly as you brought the warm cloth to his face, gently dabbing at the bloodied spot upon his cheek. Reek shrank away from your touch, causing you to grimace, before attempting once again to dab the wound. "I'm not gonna hurt ya," you whispered gently, "I love you too much. I just want to ease the pain." 

The broken Greyjoy seemed to respond to your words, allowing you to dab at his wound as gently as you possible could, while his eyes turned towards you. You were able to catch a glimpse into the broken blue eyes, seeing maybe a small touch of Theon still hidden behind the immense abuse that he had sustained over time from Ramsay. 

You had not lied when you said that you loved Theon, either. The two of you had grown up together under the care of Lord and Lady Stark, though neither of you were looked fondly upon by Lady Stark. Catelyn had found it a bit much that Ned had taken both of you as the Stark's wards, especially since you had been brought home at the same time that Jon Snow entered the picture. 

You grew closer and closer to Theon, though you strayed further as he begun seeing the whore that he paid to bed. You did not comprehend why the young, handsome Theon Greyjoy would always bed a whore, when you thought you had made your advances rather obvious. Though he was oblivious, he had his own reasons, and you felt that you had to accept it. 

After a while of dabbing at his wounds and stitching what was necessary with a threaded needle, occasionally hearing a whimper escape his lips, you watched in shock as his bloodied lips formed your name. At first, it was a silent speech, as if the slave was silently screaming for aid, though no matter how silent it was, it had brought your attention to the lips that you planned to clean last. Your gaze studied the broken man's features, showing him that he had your attention. 

"Y/N," he whispered, barely above a whisper. The damaged man's voice crumbled as he spoke, though it still tugged your heart strings to hear him speak a word to you. Over the weeks of tending to his wounds, this had been the first time he had any recollection to you at all. 

Feeling a shaky hand reach to cup your cheek, you felt as if you may break down in tears right there. His hand was warm, despite his condition, and you softly nuzzled into it, though you made with haste to get his wounds taken care of. Never had Ramsey allowed you enough time to care for "Reek" anyhow, and you knew the tyrant would enter simply to hinder your care for him. 

"Theon," you murmured out, a whisper nearly inaudible, but just enough that he would be able to hear you. Through his pain, he managed to give you the lightest smile, as if he were fighting to do so despite his condition. "I need to get you out of here." 

"The Wall," he said, struggling to form each word, as if he were battling the abused form that had become of him to speak each one. "We will be safe there, with Jon." Each word he spoke was hushed, thank the old and new gods for it, since you would not want to know what could possibly happen if Ramsay were to overhear. 

"In a fortnight I will come to your chambers and we will make our escape," you whispered in return, placing a gentle kiss upon his forehead before turning to leave. "Be ready." With that, you made your way with haste back to report to the cruel man you served, making sure he was to know that you had completed your task. 

What you had not heard as you walked out of Reek's cell was that small bit of the old Theon, holding a broken, hushed tone as he let the words slip from his mouth for the first time. He may have assumed that you would not hear him regardless, but he felt the need to say them as he watched your broken figure walk away from him. The two of you were in rough shape, counting the days that either of you would be able to withstand the barbarous treatment from Ramsay Bolton. He hoped to the old gods and new that you were right - that the two of you could escape the callous treatment you received. 

His mouth uttered the words in a way that they fell with care from his shaken mouth, saying, "I love you, Y/N," paired with Reek's stutter. Something about his recollection of you had brought some of Theon to the forefront of his mind, attempting to stash away the Reek that Ramsay Bolton had created of him. 


	4. Reek II (Theon Greyjoy x Fem!Reader)

The fortnight from your prior meeting with Reek was upon you, and you had courted Lady Sansa into your escape as well. You were to retrieve Theon from his cell and meet Sansa at the wall close to the entrance of Winterfell, where the three of you would have to scale the wall and make your escape into the nearby trees. With enough running towards the North, the three of you would be able to reach the Wall, Sansa reunited with her half brother, and the two of you seeking shelter in the wall until you knew what the two of you would do from there. 

You knew as well as he would have that Jon would not be fond of Theon after everything that had happened before the siege. Theon had gotten too big for his name and created falsities that were unforgivable to most, especially for the Starks. Tonight, your main objective was to get yourself, Theon, and Sansa away from the merciless tormentor that you had almost become accustomed to. 

Theon, as Reek, stared at you with wide eyes initially as you walked in, reaching a hand to him. Meekly, you managed to coax the fractured man to take your hand, before you noticed that he was limping. Thinking quickly on your feet, you brought your shoulder underneath his arm, helping him to walk without placing pressure upon the leg that was injured. 

With this action, you were able to walk semi quickly from the cell, to the wall to meet Sansa. No one dared utter a word as the three of you hopped down from the wall, trying to partially scale it. You could hear from a distance that your ruse was already caught on, and that Ramsay had begun sending the hounds out for the three of you. Ominous sounds in the malicious chorus of blood seeking hounds filled the chilled air as the three of you made your way out of Winterfell and into the wooded area. Sansa had the easiest time making it through in the beginning, and was in front of the two of you. You still had to support Theon as the two of you made your way out, which had made you significantly slower than the redhead, but you moved with all your might, taking Theon along the way. 

The three of you made haste in the snow, though the bitter cold nipped at your skin, especially newly felt cuts that Ramsay had riddled your bodies with. It stung to the point that tears dared well in your eyes, but none of you could look back. Further and further the three of you sought towards the direction of the Wall, freedom seeming to draw closer, yet still be so far from reach. 

One or two hot tears dared to fall from your e/c eyes as you made haste towards the wall, your body beginning to tire already. It had seemed like Theon was moving faster than you were, but you pushed your body to your limits to keep pace with him. Occasionally, you had stolen glances to see Theon's sad yet determined face, causing you to let your lips curl lightly into a smile. 

His determination seemed to give you more strength, and it was as if the two of you were beginning to catch up with Sansa, when in actuality she had slowed her pace slightly during the escape. There was no knowing how long the three of you had been traveling by this point, but the duration was wearing on everyone. The chorus of hounds grew close to your group, as did the sight of Castle Black, your destination. The Wall was within sight, chill and exhaustion eating at the three of you, while Ramsay's hounds were right on your tail. 

Theon tried pushing you off of him, saying, "You will get there without me," in a broken tone. It could have truly torn your heart to pieces, and you knew what he was thinking. He would not be accepted at Castle Black by Jon. Both of you were already more than aware of what he had done, and the pentance that he likely would need to pay just to get into Castle Black's safety, but you did not plan on leaving him behind. 

You tightened your grip around him, shaking your head. "You are coming with, Theon," you said in an affirmative tone. Sansa had agreed with other words, and yet you barely even heard her. Your attention was purely focused on Theon by this point, and you were determined to get him to safety, even if it would be temporary. 

"Y/N…" he attempted to counter, while he watched you shake your head once more. 

"No, Theon," you said firmly. "I don't care if you don't love me as well. I refuse to let any more harm come to you again. It may take some time, but Jon will understand. If he doesn't, I will find another place to keep you safe." 

Through your words, you were blind to the solidity that your walls had been broken down, tears onset in waterfalls down your cheeks. It had only been when his free arm reached to your face, using his thumb to remove the tears that he could from your cheeks that you were made aware of it. Unwittingly, you had nuzzled into his hand as he did so, causing him to allow his lips to turn upward the slightest bit. 

"We need to go, now," Sansa stated, fear laced in her voice as she brought attention to the hounds drawing even more near the three of you. 

All the same, your moment had been cut short, and Theon had simply nodded, the three of you making your way through the openness to Castle Black. Even with it in sight, it was a long and precarious journey from the woods to Castle Black itself, and through the way Theon and yourself were especially struggling to make it to your destination. The two of you were trailing behind Sansa, chills continually shifting down your spine as you made your way with him. 

The three of you had finally made your way to the front, greeted not by anything initially despite the large drawn door opening, followed by it shutting behind the three of you. Catching your breaths, Sansa was the first to be recognized by Jon himself, and the two of you watched with panted breaths as the two of them shared a long, wonderous embrace. If you were to get yourself caught in the moment, you would have allowed a smile to stretch brightly against your skin, seeing their happy reunion, though you knew it was not time for rejoicing quite yet. 

Jon's eyes glowered as they met the two of you, though the look was mostly towards Theon Greyjoy, the one whom had disgraced the Starks and denounced them with the lies that he had spread for fear. You let go of Theon to allow him to stand in his own solidarity, though you conceded into a look of sympathy, your heart tied in knots at the scene before you. 

"You brought a traitor into Castle Black," Jon spat out, venom laced in each word. 

Theon bowed before Jon, as if for a moment he was once again Reek, waiting for his punishment. Jon was in fact not Ramsay, though, and would not lay a hand that was undeserving upon Theon. Sansa was the one to grab her brother's arm initially, and pled her side of Theon's case before anyone else was able to utter a word. 

Much to your relief, Jon's expression had seemed to change from Sansa's words, and you allowed yourself to release a breath that you were unaware you were holding. "I want to apologize for all my misgivings, Snow," Theon said submissively, his eyes meeting Jon once again. 

"Bran is alive, from what I last saw of him, Jon," you said, barely above a whisper. You dared not speak at a normal tone. "He was accompanied by Hodor." 

Jon smiled lightly at you, acknowledging you with a simple nod. "The two of you may stay until other arrangements can be made," Jon had declared, before ordering one of the men to set up a chamber for the two of you. Since they had not had a copious amount of room, you had assumed, that was why it was simply one chamber being altered for the two of your stay. 

With his last words, Jon had disappeared in his office area with Sansa, expectedly to catch up with his lost half sister. The two of you were left alone near the entrance of Castle Black, seemingly warmer than you were in the wind, though the cold temperatures still nipped upon your skin. Your eyes had shifted to Theon, where you saw there was still a hint of shock inside of those blue eyes, and the brokenness still had yet to dissipate from the hell that Reek had provided. 

After a few minutes, what you had presumed was Castle Black's Maester had appeared, hushing the both of you into his study. The old man had started with you, since you had been far more injured than Theon. It was not because of Ramsay's sheer hatred taken out upon you, though, and instead was the fact that Ramsay had never had someone tend to your wounds. Even with your knowledge of needle work and first aid, you were unable to perform the majority of it upon yourself. 

"If you would be more comfortable, my lady, this could be in private," Maester Aemon as you had learned, had said to you in his almost sickening tone. You knew precisely what he was referring to, as he would need to check you out fully, and you in turn shook your head. It felt as if tears were going to once again descend down your face as he lifted your dress to see the damage that Ramsay had done to your nether regions. 

The maester's lips turned to a frown as he examined your pelvic area, and did the little that he possibly could to fix you up. "I regretfully inform you that you may be barren, my Lady," he mused out as he placed your dress back down, covering you once more. You simply nodded, unable to formulate words for the news you had received. 

He had moved to work upon Theon next, and was shocked to see the torment that Ramsay had truly done to him. Thankfully any stitching up and cleaning did not take longer than it took to get your chamber situated, and the two of you were led to the chambers that you would be staying in for the duration of your time at Castle Black. Once the two of you were alone, Theon managed to catch your attention, grabbing your wrist gently to make you turn towards him. 

You bit your lip gently as your gaze met Theon's, taking in each bruise and scar that was exposed on his upper body. Ramsay had truly broken the man in front of you, and all you wanted to do was lay with him in your arms, comforting him. "Theon," you mused out softly, after what was longer than an uncomfortable time of silence, unable to even form the words you wished to say to him. 

"Y/N," he said gently, straightening his posture out as best as he could. His eyes reflected the seriousness that he was attempting to convey, though his mentally and physically fractured features made it difficult. "I'm so sorry…" 

You shook your head, trying to plaster a smile upon your own face. "We're both alive, Sansa's alive, and we're safe," you assured him gently. "We're free, after all." 

Despite the plastered smile upon your face, tears did threaten to spill from your eyes. Neither of you would be able to have children, you barren, and him without the tools for the task either. Both of your bloodlines would end with the two of you, but you did not wish to dwell upon it for his sake. What you had not expected was that he brought you into his arms tightly, resting his forehead in the crook of your neck as he held you. 

The warmth around you was incredible, as if you had stepped beside a fire, though you presumed he was as cold as you were prior. You wrapped your arms into him in return, holding him closely. "I want you to know, I love you, too, Y/N," he whispered gently, his voice breaking as he did so, but you felt as if your heart may have stopped the moment you heard it. 

The two of you separated just enough to stare into one another's eyes. Meekly, the two of you slowly closed the gap between your lips, as if the two of you were too scared of one another's reaction to meet quickly. Your lips moved cautiously at first, treating him as a glass that could easily shatter with the wrong move. As the two of you continued, though, your feelings seemed to ooze through the kiss, passion and love reflecting on either side. 

When the two of you separated for air, both panting at the lack that both of you had allowed yourselves to receive, you motioned to the bed. "Will you lie with me, then, Theon?" 

For a moment, his mind did not process what you meant, and thought that you meant more, causing you to sadly chuckle. "You're likely as exhausted as I, and I wish to fall asleep in your arms," you clarified, giving him a genuine smile. 

He nodded, delicately separating from you and joining you upon the cot. Theon lied on his back, beaconing you to lie your head upon his chest. You were cautious at first, hoping not to harm the man, but did as you were motioned, feeling his arms wrap around you protectively. "I have always loved you," he murmured softly to you, holding you closely. 

You smiled in return, cuddling closer to him. "And I have always loved you, Theon," you whispered to him in return. It did not take long for either of you to fall into slumber, comfortably resting in the comfort of one another. Though you may never bare children for him, he would never be able to spill his seed, and the two of you would simply need to love one another in any way you would ever love. That was the most comforting thing that either of you could do. 


	5. Escaping King's Landing (Sandor Clegane x Fem!Reader)

Though you had been instructed by your sister to stay in the Red Keep with the other women, you were nothing like your sister. Those out there that were risking their lives over Stannis Baratheon’s attack were people that you cared for, and you were not going to sit in hiding while the men were slaughtered by Stannis’s army. You had taken the sword that your brother Jamie had given you years prior, back when he found out your little secret enjoyment of sword play, and you had tied your hair back under a set of armour. When the attack had struck the walls of King’s Landing, you fought merceliously by the side of your fellow people. 

Unlike your sister, you actually cared for the supposed underlings that were out risking their lives. Those whom would fight for the kingdom did have a leader beside them, though they were blissfully unaware of your presence. The one person, though, whom had been there to protect your arrogant nephew, sister, and all of the kingdom as what most would refer to as “The Hound”, knew every knight, squire, and face of everyone that came in and out of King’s Landing. It had not taken long for him to realize that it was you, and though he did not announce it to the world, he did keep a careful eye on you during the battle. 

As time went on, arrows flying back and forth, swords clashing aggressively upon one another, King’s Landing was falling. The army was being slaughtered, and no matter the help of one person whom stuck their nose where they were told not to, the results were looking bleak. Through the chaos, you had felt yourself being pulled by your armor away from the battle. Originally, you had thought that the strong arm belonged to a Stannis knight, and you brought your sword up to slash at the man holding you. Much to your surprise, the man had Lannister armor adorning him, and shushed you with a gruff voice. 

Pulling you away from the action fully, he somewhat forcefully removed your helm. From under his own helm, you could hear the gruff voice say, “Don’t fret, little bird,” and you could almost hear a soft smile upon the gruff man’s face. That voice, though it was somewhat muffled by the helm, was familiar to you. Though you were not absolutely sure, you figured that Sandor had found you and taken you away from it all. “You could have gotten ya’rself killed out there.”

“It’s better than my cowardly sister holding up in the keep,” you countered firmly, your gentle voice having a stern underlay to it. “This wretched battle was her atrocity anyhow.”

He let out a hearty chuckle, placing an armored hand upon your shoulder. “I take it ya’re not a fan of ‘er?” he questioned between fits of laughter. 

“I’d much rather die in battle than spend another minute in the throne room, Sandor” you said with a soft sigh. 

“Let’s get ya’ out of ‘ere, then,” he said firmly, though under his helm he was somewhat softened by the fact that you had addressed him by his name. The two of you were never particularly close, seeing as your sister would not have allowed that, but you did treat him with respect. For that matter, though it was your secret alone in all of King’s Landing, you were fond of the scarred, apparent brute. Sandor Clegane had been nothing but kind to you, and you showed him the respect that he deserved. He was not a dog, a mutt, or any of those wretched things that your nephew, sister, and just about anyone in your family had said about him. He was a killer when it was necessary, but his brother, the Mountain, was the only one that seemed to truly enjoy the endeavour outside of orders. 

Sandor had allowed you to strip out of the heavy armor that you adorned before sneaking you through the castle. Stopping at your room, you had grabbed a few small necessities that you would be able to carry upon yourself, and while you gathered them, he watched softly from the doorway. He had stripped himself of the helm that he wore, though he insisted upon keeping the armor that was against his own body. After all, you rarely saw the man without plated armor on him anyhow. When you were ready, the two of you flee King’s Landing entirely, the sounds of battle slowly grew silent behind you as you ran. 

Once the two of you had reached the town itself, you stopped at the stables to grab his horse, which he had helped you onto before the two of you rode out of the area. Where you two were going was a mystery to you both, but as far away from King’s Landing was the current objective. Most of the ride was silent, and you held on tightly to his armor plated waist as the two of you rode. The further that the two of you ventured, the more free you had felt for the first time in a long time. 

When it had been hours that the two of you rode, he finally offered for the two of you to stop at a nearby inn. Though you had not grabbed a lot of gold from your chambers, you had grabbed more than enough to suffice, agreeing that it would be nice to actually get some rest. The two of you saved money by getting one room, and you let out a relieving sigh once the two of you got into the room. 

“Sandor,” you said softly as you sat upon the bed in the room the two of you were sharing, causing him to glance over at you. At first glance, with the blood stains upon your face, as well as the outfit you adorned, you did not look like a princess, let alone a queen. Not to say that you were not beautiful, but you showed your difference from your sister Cersei in the way that you carried yourself this day. To your call, you received merely a grunt from the man, urging you to continue, but something in his eyes showed that despite his indifference in his tone, his eyes awaited each and every word. “I wanted to say thank you.”

He tried to fight that gentle smile that perched against his lips, but even the will of the strong man was nothing compared to someone showing him a simple kindness. His brown orbs may normally have been cold, yet they never seemed so towards you. They had a warmness about them as they met your y/e/c orbs, and you could not help but let a light tinge of blush rise in your cheeks. “Don’t mention it,” he murmured out, though you could tell that he was just trying to play off the smile that was previously upon his lips. 

That night, though he had protested, the two of you had shared the inn’s bed, and subconsciously you had rolled into his arms. Since you were fast asleep, he had allowed himself to wrap his arm firmly around you before he finally fell into slumber. In the morning, if the two of you still lied together so tightly, he would argue that he merely meant to keep you safe, though deep down he just may have been able to admit that he enjoyed the feeling of your fragile frame in his arms.


	6. Jealousy (Bronn x Fem!Reader)

Eyes wandering the somewhat crowded pub, you caught sight of Bronn and Tyrion, much to your relief. Squeezing between unruly men smelling of alcohol, you found your way over to the two men with your drink. Bronn seemed to be the first to notice you, his blueish green eyes meeting yours. A gentle smile tugged at your lips as you sat down next to the two that already seemed to be more than a couple drinks in. 

"Lady Y/N," Tyrion greeted with a smile. 

Bronn always seemed to chuckle at the way that Tyrion greeted you, and once he stopped his light chuckle, he said, "What brings you down with the likes of us?" 

You rolled your eyes at Bronn's comment, and took a sip of your own drink. "You know as well as I that I happen to enjoy your company," you mused out after swallowing the bitter beer. Bronn seemed as if, for a moment, he was taken aback, a soft tinge of blush upon his face. If it was truly there, you were not sure, as it was quickly shaken off with the next gulp of his drink. 

"We happened to notice a young lord accompanying you around the Red Keep earlier," Tyrion started, causing you to look his direction. His accusation was indeed true. There was a young lord visiting the Red Keep as well, and he had seemed to have taken a fondness of you. Though your sights had been set less than nobler elsewhere, you had not the heart to turn the lord down when he had asked for a stroll. 

You simply nodded, shrugging your shoulders lightly. "He seemed rather kind," you mused our softly. 

"For fuck's sake, he's not," Bronn groaned out, his agitation clear upon his face. You were not entirely sure why it seemed that he was so mad about who would possibly be accompanying you anywhere. "I've seen that  _ lord's _ type before." 

Tyrion broke in, placing his hand up to stop Bronn from saying anything else before he spoke. "What Bronn is trying to convey is that the lord we saw accompanying you is untrustworthy," he said, as gently as he possibly could. You simply laughed off what Tyrion had said, though in the back of your mind, you were wondering why. 

“Sounds more like jealousy than anything,” you had said just low enough for Tyrion to hear, Bronn to be left in the dark. The three of you had downed a few drinks, you sipping while Bronn had taken messy, large gulps of his own. Tyrion was in the middle of the two of you, not quite as messy as Bronn, though you were still a bird in comparison. Throughout the time, the three of you had chatted, enjoying one another’s company. Tonight, though, Bronn had seemed a little more on edge than usual. 

Bronn would glance over at you with his deep brown eyes, almost daring you to look, though if he was caught he would quickly play it off as if he were staring at some barmaid. As the little game between the two of you went on, you began getting agitated with him, before quickly setting your drink down. Just as Bronn would not admit his own jealousy, there was no way you were going to admit that you thought he was eyeing the barmaid. “I should be going,” you had said quickly, giving an apologetic glance to Tyrion before getting up and fleeing the bar entirely. 

Tyrion glanced over to his tall friend, his eyes stern with his concern. “You should just tell her, Bronn,” Tyrion said knowledgeably, and Bronn could not help but chuckle at his dwarf friend, shaking his head. “You may lose her if you don’t.”

“I ain’t gonna lose nothin’,” he said with a hearty laugh, before his expression had flashed a small wave of sadness, quickly covered. His voice was relatively slurred because of the alcohol, but his thoughts were clear enough - he knew exactly what Tyrion was speaking of, and his lips curled into a frown. “I hate when yer right.”

Tyrion chuckled gently, patting his friend upon the arm before motioning for Bronn to head out to look for you. Since it had only been a few minutes, he actually had found you sitting against the building itself. You had never expected either to follow you, and you just wished to be alone to think. Though you thoroughly enjoyed Tyrion’s witt, and Bronn’s humor, you could not stand the little bit of jealousy that was peeking out of you. Had you not been as pretty as every little whore that Bronn fucked? 

You felt tears burning at your y/e/c eyes as you sat there thinking, and did not notice the extra presence that had come out of the bar. He did not announce himself out, as he was actually trying to think of what he would say to you. The way that your y/h/c hair shimmered in the moonlight was entrancing, despite your crouched, saddened figure. Bronn had never been nervous around women, but for some reason, he was always nervous around you. He cared too much about what you thought, and always was terrified to upset you. 

“Y/N,” the man breathed out in his deep voice, standing above you and causing your gaze to glance upward to him. Your y/e/c orbs met Bronn’s deep brown gaze, and you felt yourself internally shudder, your nerves taking over. With your eyes still full with tears, you glanced back downward quickly, hoping he had not seen. The tall man kneeled himself down to your level, before placing a finger underneath your chin, causing you to look back up at him. “The fuck are you cryin’ for?” 

His lips were curled downward in a frown, though his brown eyes showed concern as he used his strong thumb to gently wipe away a few stray tears that had fallen from your y/e/c orbs. “Why do you care, Bronn?” you spat back at him, your eyes looking away, though your cheeks betrayed you with the light blush that rose from his calloused touch. Despite his hands being rough, he had a gentleness to him that just made you desire it more. 

“God, Y/N, are ya gonna make me say it?” he said sarcastically, though a smirk was tugging upon his lips as he had finally gotten your glance to fall back upon him. Deciding against his own words, he pressed his lips roughly against yours in a lip bruising kiss, passion flowing between the two of you. You were taken aback, but as you realized what was going on, you kissed him back with passion, your cheeks red as tomatoes with wildfire blush rising in them. He hoisted you into his arms, you wrapping your legs around his waist as he held you up. Your arms wrapped around his neck as the two of you kissed, holding him tightly. 

When the two of you had finally separated, desperately needing air, he gave you a soft smirk. “Does that answer your question?” he said with a chuckle. A smile pulled upon your lips before you pulled him into another rough kiss, not caring who was to walk by and see the two of you connected at the lips. You mentally noted that you should thank Tyrion later, though the quips he would make about the two of you would even out anything you would have owed the man towards giving Bronn the strength to come out.


	7. First Kiss (Petyr Baelish x Fem!Reader)

At what point do you tire of having to hold the strength to continue? The land was dark, and yet there you strode, your stone faced gaze fixated on the beauty around you. There was the knowing in your heart that you would be able to run away from it all. You were no captive, and yet you had become captive of your own pride. 

You had begun questioning yourself once your gaze had caught grey green eyes, snake eyes. The man was playing his game, and you had caught that from the moment he strode into the palace. Though you had been Lysa's elder daughter, you were significantly more beautiful than your mother, and you had watched those grey green eyes stray to you before he had set his pawn into place. 

By this point, the snake likely played with more than just pawns, though. His charm had dragged you in nonetheless, and you had led to your mother's downfall. Down in the courtyard, you were asked to stroll with Petyr, and you had obliged with your cold eyes. They twinkled for a moment, as your heart had sped up. This was the moment that the man placed a slender hand upon your back, guiding you to a quiet place in the courtyard. 

You knew what the man was doing, and you nearly died allowing him to fulfill his purpose. The moment his lips had connected with your own in a tender, yet dominant way, you thought to push the man away. It was wrong for your mother's betrothed to be alone in that courtyard with you, let alone to have his lips upon your own. Something about that kiss had changed you, though, and for more than a split second you had kissed the man back. 

He was taken aback by this, it seemed, as he just simply gazed into your eyes with your own grey green orbs. Looking back to the fateful night when your mother truly flew for the first and last time, you wondered if maybe it was the Tully look that made the snake stare a little longer. After all, he had loved your aunt, and your aunt held the Tully features as you do. 

Gripping the edge of the balcony tightly, you thought about that moment, and how you had allowed your strength to falter for a moment. It was a simple moment, and it had led to the world tumbling. Your own mother had dragged you to the sky door, screaming profanities at you. 

If it were not for the snake whom had brought you into his game, you would have been the one pushed out of the sky door. Instead, he had pushed your mother, in a sense, saving your life. The whole situation could have been avoided if you did not allow your strength to falter. 

"Late night, my lady?" You could hear the snake whisper behind you, practically in your ear. Shook from your thoughts, you gripped the balcony tighter, nearly leaving your knuckles white. Though you did not know the full extent of the man's game, it was not that he truly made you nervous - it was that he had the ability to shake your strength. 

You did not turn your softening gaze to him, instead willing yourself to focus upon the land past the balcony, as if focusing upon it would allow you to keep your visage. "Indeed, my Lord," you said simply, attempting to relax yourself. As you did so, you allowed your grip to loosen, and a breath you did not know you were holding to release. 

Feeling the man's slender fingers upon your back once more caused your breath to hitch in your throat. "You should not dwell upon the accident that transpired," he said softly in his ear, so close that you could feel his hot breath upon your ear. "And please, call me Petyr."

Visibly, you shivered, which caused your lips to curl into more of a smirk, aware of the effect he had upon you. "No need to worry, Petyr," you replied plainly, trying to push off the feeling bubbling inside of you. The way his name felt upon your lips felt different, and you desired to say it once more. Maybe you even desired to scream it, but that would simply be a lapse of your own strength. 

"Would it be inappropriate to ask for your lips?" He mused out, partly to himself, but loud enough that he knew you would hear. Petyr wanted you to hear, and he wanted the effect he had on you to take hold. 

As much as you were attempting to fight it, desire was starting to take hold. "You have no gain upon reclaiming my lips," you said softly, almost inaudible as you felt yourself start to slip. You wanted to just say yes. You wanted to feel those tender lips once more. 

He chuckled, and you noted how his laughter was almost hollow in a sense. It was devoid of something that you could not quite place. "If it allowed me to gain the affection of a beautiful woman, would that not be an achievement?" He replied slyly, the smirk practically radiating through his voice as he spoke. 

"You are charming, Petyr, but do you believe I will fall for your act?" You asked, turning your face towards him. Your eyebrow raised, awaiting his response, though your eyes had met his green gray eyes. Instantly, you regretted catching his gaze, because just as before, you were falling into the trance of those gray green eyes. 

While you were facing him, you could see the smirk upon his face, as well as his handsome features in the moonlight. When he had reached forward and cupped your chin, you wanted to push away. At least, your head told you that you wished to push away. Your heart was drawn towards him, and despite yourself, you relaxed into his touch. 

"It is no act that I desire you," he said softly, staring directly at your lips. His prize was in sight, and the gap was slowly closing. These were the last few moments that you had to stop it, to push him away, and to run away from it all. 

It was as if he was teasing you with the kiss, closing the gap so slowly that you could feel his hot breath upon your lips before he had truly closed it. This kiss was different than before, and you had noted that as you felt his lips collide with your own. He took dominance in the kiss, pressed passionately against your own. Though your mind screamed for you to fight it, you kissed him in return passionately, yet submissively. 

It took no time for him to slip his tongue against your bottom lip, while his slender hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer. The pull had given you a shock, causing you to gasp and allow him to slip his tongue inside your mouth. His tongue battled against your own for dominance, winning within moments and exploring your wet cavern. You were not sure at what point your arms made their way around his neck, but they pulled the snake even closer to you. 

As the two of you separated, he rested his forehead against your own, staring into your Tully eyes with his own gray green eyes. You had failed to be strong in that moment, and the way his arms felt around you made you want to stay. Though you knew that man had killed your mother, you were drawn to him still. 

"You have the beautiful Tully eyes, just like your aunt," he whispered as he gazed at you. 

It seemed like a backwards compliment, and yet you still were swept into another feverent kiss, your lips moving skillfully against his. What this snake had not known through all the madness he had, and all he would put you through, was that those lips against yours in the courtyard was your very first kiss. 


	8. Scapegoat (Petyr Baelish x Fem!Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has come to my attention that I keep using the book's version of Petyr's eyes, and this time used the actor's. This is all hurt, zero comfort, and based around Petyr's trial.

"You stand accused of murder," Sansa began, her Tully eyes showing nothing but winter reflected upon them. "You stand accused of treason." The room had been silent but the young woman's voice, echoing off of the cold, unforgiving walls of the North. "How do answer these charges, Lady Y/N?" 

Your y/e/c orbs held nothing but fear as they met your accuser's Tully eyes. Mouth dry, you knew you had thrown it all away years ago. Singularly, a salted tear chilled against your flushed face as you forced the words from your mouth. "I plead guilty, Lady Sansa," you spoke. 

Blue eyes grew wide at your words, though he had not let it slip from his lips that it had been he to do everything. He used you as a scapegoat, hid behind the facade of you, as he believed you to be untouchable. The snake had used the rabbit to commit his crimes for him, to take the fall for him, but he had never kept in mind that rabbits were prey for the wolf. 

"Step forward," Lady Sansa commanded, her tone nothing but cold. There had been no softness, no sympathies in her voice as she watched you step to face her. Even with the chill to her eyes, her scowl, you knew you were never a match for her. 

"I murdered Jon Arryn," you spoke, forcing your lips upwards to a smirk, as if you were fond of the horror you had caused because of the facade. "I sent a raven blaming the Lannisters. I abided Cersei Lannister to have your father executed. I pushed your Aunt, Lysa Arryn through the Moon Door, and I can assure you that my hands have held far more blood." 

"She speaks the truth," Bran stated in a cold tone. 

"I nearly killed you, Lady Sansa," you added, a glint in your eyes as you felt another tear fall from them. "Sheerly out of jealousy. Love is a poisonous thing, and I..." You allowed yourself to fall to your knees before the court, tears forming in your eyes as you continued. "...I kneel before you, begging for you to end my suffering. I can assure you, if you do not, more blood will sully my hands." 

"Lady Y/N," Sansa spoke, tight lipped as she stood to her feet. "I will never forget the lessons you have taught me. As you have said when we came back to Winterfell, there is no justice unless you make it." 

The moment that sharp, unbearable pain coursed through your throat, you expected it to be quick, nearly painless. Blood splurted and gushed as you first found yourself unable to take another breath. Your vision spotted in red before it dusted to a hazy black, your hand instinctively moving to your gushing neck. The warm red liquid flowed over your hand as you felt yourself falling, though the point your vision blackened, you had not even hit the ground. 

The court cleared out, those who were ordered to clean not yet ordered to do so. A snake with blue eyes stated listlessly as the remainder of the other folks cleared out, before he ran to your lifeless side. He hadn't cared of the blood stains he would clearly accrue as he pulled your body gently to his lap, sitting upon his knees. Tears cascaded from blue eyes as he stared down upon you, choked sobs ringing from his throat. 

"Y/N," he murmured through his shaking tears. "My sweet, sweet Y/N." Biting his lip to try to control his sobs, his head ducked down to plant a shaky, tear covered kiss against your chilling forehead. "I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry." 

From the doorway, a figure stood in silence. The Lady of Winterfell watched as the scene took place, Lord Baelish grieving over the woman he had taken advantage of. The knowledge, to the Three Eyed Raven, her brother, had not been hard to pick through. 

Through his sobs, his thumb delicately slid across her cheekbone. His sobs increased as he continued to stare down upon lifeless y/e/c eyes, forbidding himself from glancing further down to see the gash in her neck. "I wish I could have loved you," he murmured through breaking tears. "I wish I could have loved you the same way I loved Catalyn. You did not deserve such a gruesome fate." 

A gentle smirk tugged upon the Stark's lips as she watched the scene unfold, though a chill still rested in her heart. She had known, as Bran had known, that Y/N was not alone in her crimes. Now, she had a confession right in front of her, Arya Stark standing behind her. Tully eyes glanced over to her younger sister, as she raised a brow and motioned to the two. 

Arya walked with silence, as Lord Baelish's cries echoed off the walls. Her blade unsheathed, the same Valaryan steel Lord Baelish supplied for the attempt on Bran's life, readied itself. His cries were paired with murmurs of guilt, murmurs of sorrow as he spoke to Y/N's petrifying body. The reddened blue eyes had not even had the chance to beg for the mercy Y/N should have as those sobs turned silent. 

His blood mixed with hers as the two lied still, motionless on the cold stone floor. The Stark sisters met eyes as Arya walked back towards Sansa, cleaning her blade with a rag. With a simple nod, the deed had been done, the weight of treason finally diminished from the North. The two who lied upon the floor had expected for Arya Stark to die today, and yet, they lied upon the cold floor, together and yet alone. 

Walking back through the chill of Winterfell, the two girls walked together. The image of the two lying motionless upon the ground was something they both would remember until their very last breath. As they were met with their younger brother, Bran, the three were able to take a sigh of relief. 

"Justice has been served," Bran stated, glancing between the two. 

  
  



	9. Twisting The Game I (Petyr x RealWorld!Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have...two, oh jeez, two, Petyr x RealWorld!Reader fics that I made forever ago that I'll never end up finishing. Knowing this, I'm going to place the chapters in here as one shots, and hopefully you guys can enjoy the concepts. This first one is a "sucked into GoT" sort of thing, where you offer Petyr the Iron Throne through your knowledge of the show. 
> 
> If I ever get the inspiration to finish these (and the ability to rewatch the series, since they took it off of Amazon Prime), I'll separate them. They're pretty lengthy overall, not my normal slow-burn, but resistant burn. I never decided a true name on this one, so I'm going with "Twisting The Game (Petyr x RealWorld!Reader)" for this one. 
> 
> Trigger warning right off the bat for mentions of attempted rape, and violence.

The air nipped upon your bare skin bitterly, as if it may have been trying to bite you, while the sun made its efforts to warm your body as best as it could manage. The streets surrounding you were busy and bumbling with an onslaught of faces you had no recollection of, and though you were surrounded by many, you were utterly alone. Noise was simply astonishing, coming from the bustling of each person, much like your home, and yet very different. As your eyes began to breathe in the surroundings, you realized a great deal of the faces that passed around you seemed almost rustic in retrospect. It was as if you had been thrown into a medieval convention in your sleeping clothes, yet there were no conventions within proximity to your home. 

Standing abruptly to your feet, you felt the need to cover yourself, and yet - with what? You had nothing, and were surrounded by strangers that oddly reminded you of something you had enjoyed watching. The only thing you possibly could think to do was to wander, to which you did with barely waking legs. You wandered to the only empty alley that you could possibly find on this busy morning, trying to contemplate what you could do. If you were to ask anyone, would they simply look at you as if you were crazy, or maybe just a lush? 

Sitting uncomfortably on the cold ground in the alley, you leaned your back against the equally cold brick behind you and let out an aggravated huff. The short duration it had taken you to find this alley had brought about too much attention to yourself already, and that already gave you the inkling that something was off. There were plenty who had stared at your slender, uncovered frame. It was acceptable for most to wear short-shorts and a tank top to bed, but here it just seemed...wrong. Since you were out and about, you felt incredibly exposed, and each woman you had seen pass you wore robes which covered significantly more. The occasional were elegant, though the rest looked significantly more impoverished. Each stare bore into your soul, still making you cringe, though you were sitting away from each and every eye. 

At least, you thought that you were away from all eyes. Believing you were safe, you let yourself slip into thought, mulling over how you could possibly have been brought into this situation. You wondered where you were, as well as how you would wake there in your slumber. For a moment or so, you assumed that maybe you were simply in a dream, and attempted to pinch yourself to see if you were to wake up. Of course, you hadn't, and you began letting your mind dive deeper. 

While away in your thoughts, you felt yourself being lifted from the cold ground, pressed into a standing position by rough, untrained hands. Within moments, the gruff man that was pressing you to your feet was already pulling at your shorts, causing you to panic. Your eyes did not recognize the brute, and you felt helpless under strong hands. Your heart fluttered quickly with fear. Trying to flail yourself to safety, he was too strong for you to injure, and the fear you were feeling was obvious in your eyes as you watched the man smirk almost evilly. 

"Don't fight it, whore," the gruff man murmured sternly. "Clearly ya're askin' for it." 

You did the best you could to struggle against the man's harsh grip as you felt his hands trailing almost drunkenly at your figure, groping at you and attempting to expose even more flesh than already shown. As you tried to scream, his other hand was brought roughly to your mouth, silencing you with a strong grasp. In your panic, you did the one thing you could think of, biting the man's hand with all the strength you could possibly muster.

He drew his hand back in a mix of anger and pain. It was obvious that you had hurt him, and you watched in fear as anger surged through his eyes, causing you to fill with even more fear and worry than prior. His primary objective had changed once you inflicted pain, and he had drawn back to punch you hard, leaving you a sobbing mess on the ground, glowering down at your helpless figure. 

"You little cunt," he exclaimed through gritted teeth. "If ya' like rough, I'll give ya' fucking rough." You were lucky enough that he had punched your shoulder blade hard instead of your face, though you still felt as if it was at least bruised badly, pain radiating off of the spot of impact, and he drew his leg back to begin kicking your now floored body. 

You cringed and balled as you waited for more punishment, your eyes now shut tightly in fear. When you had heard footsteps tracing closer, you had heard those deeper footsteps run off, much to your relief.

It took you a few moments before you felt it safe to even open your eyes, worried that some other evil was right there to take its place. Without even wiping your eyes, you glanced upward to see who could possibly be finding you in an alley next, and what more punishment to come, your heart still aflutter with fear. It had not even been an hour since you had woken, entering this strange land, and here you were, ready to be beaten and raped to death. How you wished this were just a dream.

What you had laid eyes upon confused you, and you blinked once more, praying you didn't have a concussion. Standing tall in front of you with a cunning smile was no other than Lord Baelish himself, complete with the handsome grey green eyes and lightly peppered locks. His smirk seemed to fall as his eyes looked upon your small frame, and what you would assume was quite a large bruise upon your shoulder. Though he showed as if he would cause no threat, you could have been wrong, and held your defenses regardless of what face was in front of you. 

The man initially kneeled beside you, taking a glance at your pained shoulder. Seeing the fear in your eyes, he spoke in a hushed tone, saying, "I'm not going to hurt you, my lady." You simply nodded, pain and fear had already taken your body as theirs, and you held a breath you did not know you had. 

He began helping you up, and you had propped yourself against the chilled wall upon rising, your eyes barely able to meet his own. The way that you were disheveled and a mess had to have looked unbecoming, and if your mind was not playing tricks on you, you were mortified that he saw you this way. Back at home, you had known of bad things like that happening to others, but the first hand experience also had you shaken in a way you had not thought initially imaginable. You pulled and straightened out your clothing, being weary of your shoulder that was still radiating in pain. 

"Are you alright, my lady?" He asked, even somewhat kindly, which threw you off of your guard, making you second guess whom you were seeing. From what you have learned from Game of Thrones, he would never have given you so much kindness unless something was exchanged in return. 

Initially you did not speak. Reality began to set in, and there was the likeliness that you were somehow in the place you presumed by the rustic times that surrounded you. Knowing that, you knew to survive, you must play the part, no matter how shaken you truly were. 

"Thank you, my lord," you practically whispered, attempting to meet the man's stern gaze. Something about his eyes held a sort of gentleness in them, and it managed to calm you the smallest bit. It was a gentleness that was rarely seen in his eyes in the show, though it had been reserved for a select few. "I am, thanks to you, though I am rather lost." 

He chuckled softly, in what you could only explain as a hollow laughter, saying, "You are not from around here from the looks of it. Where do you hail from?" 

You gave him the half smile that you could manage to muster, and shake your head. "You would think I'm crazy, my lord," you said with a soft chuckle. "May we possibly go somewhere a little safer?" Your eyes darted around, and you found yourself getting nervous once more. After all, you were still in your pajamas, showing way too much skin for the outdoors, let alone for the area of Westeros. 

His eyebrow raised for a moment, though he nodded, saying, "Follow me." He led you quietly down a series of pathways, into the back door of his brothel. Once inside, you could only assume you were in King's Landing based upon the adornment of the establishment. 

Everything was wonderfully adorning the room, though the faintest chorus of women and men's moans could be heard. What it looked like he led you into was in fact his office in the back of the brothel, a large desk, chair, and couch seeming to be the majority of furnishing. He had offered you a seat upon the couch that was facing the desk, before taking his own seat at the desk itself. You gladly took it, readjusting your revealing outfit with a touch of blush upon your face. 

There was no doubt you were beginning to get self conscious under the snake's gaze, though you found it oddly calming. If there were anywhere for you to be dropped in Westeros, you were oddly glad that you were dropped near Lord Baelish, because you had begun formulating a plan upon your walk. By this point, it was all about timing and proper execution. 

"You look too beautiful to be a whore," he mused out gently, glancing you up and down. "And I have never seen garbs adorned that fashion." 

You shifted uncomfortably, your blush heating even more under his wandering eyes. "These are just the clothes I sleep in," you admitted sheepishly. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, you bit your lip nervously, watching as he shifted as well. He had already admitted an attraction to you, which made your heart flutter, but this was the time to bring in your plan. "Lord Baelish, may I ask why you saved me?"

His face contorted slightly, mostly showing confusion upon it at the mention of his name. Since he had not introduced himself, and yet you knew him by his formal name, he had known something was amiss with your knowledge already. "I overheard the ordeal, and was not about to turn a deaf ear," he said, almost proudly, recomposing himself. "If you do not reside around here, why do you know who I am?" 

It was your turn to smirk softly, your gaze fixated upon his own. With how much you had watched and rewatched the series, you knew precisely what would court him in to at least keeping you safe. While you had information, you were valuable enough alive. "My lord, I know much more than your name," you cooed softly. You leaned in closer, your voice going softer in case anyone was listening in, "And I would like to help you obtain the Iron Throne." 

For a moment, his gaze grew stern, unbelieving of your knowledge. Your own gaze did not stray nor falter as the two of you simply stared at one another. "And what is your price?" He asked wryly, his gaze almost calculating as he stared, though you could not help but see a light smirk tugging at his lips.

You chuckled softly, admiring his features up close as you did, though you tried to snap yourself out of it quickly. "Self preservation is underlying, as you need me alive through this venture," you said a bit teasingly, yet as soft as before. "I desire not for money, though I do emplore you to find a spot at your side once we make it."

"And how am I to trust you, a stranger dressed as a strange whore, who has simply proven that she knows my name?" He countered back, obviously testing you. It was true, that there was no genuine way that he would be able to trust you so early on. In actuality, he had just saved you after all. You were, in a sense, indebted to him already. 

"I prefer we stray from the word 'whore', if you would be so kind, my lord," you said gently, the word itself brought an uncomfortable feeling to your stomach. "Y/N will do fine. Though I understand your distrust. You are wise not to trust, as I will be wise not to place mine in you. I'm simply offering you the Iron Throne with my own selfish intent, after all. I'm not a fan of who is to sit upon it, and know precisely how to change that. I must ask you, though, does Eddard Stark still live?" 

You must have looked simply crazy to be spouting everything out the way you were, but regardless of how it may have looked, the man was truly intrigued. Through his poker face, you could see the interest within his gray green eyes. "If you are full of all of this information, should you not already know the answer?" He tested in return, causing you to roll your eyes. 

"I know what is to happen, but am unaware of the current timeline, my lord," you replied with a frown. "And if I sit here spouting all of my information out, there would be no doubt that you will rid yourself of me. I could, instead, describe the way the three dragons shall grow, or simply tell you what I know of you in the current timeline, sparing the details that would lessen my own value. I do plan on keeping my value for as long as purposed, even if I have to watch the most handsome man in all seven kingdoms unfavorably choosing in a wretch bride, or in the pursuit of love." 

The last part kind of just slipped out, and caused you to heat up once again with blush, clamping your hand across your mouth in dismay and breaking eye contact with him. What you hadn't seen was the man began to smirk more, and he rose from where he sat, sitting next to you on the couch. 

"The most handsome man in the seven kingdoms?" He practically purred out, teasing you. His eyes bore through your very soul, but you felt something like butterflies in your stomach flapping around, noting the close proximity that the two of you were now. "How flattering, Y/N." It was as if he was already testing your name upon his lips, savoring the flavor of it, though you chalked it up as another one of his manipulation moves.

You could not look up at him, though your hand was moved from your mouth. He cupped your chin, bringing your eyes to face his own grey green eyes, blush still fully apparent upon your face. "I apologize for my forwardness, my lord," you said gently, your voice wavering a tad. "If it were I in Catalyn's shoes, I assure you that you would have been the favorable choice." 

"Truly an intriguing woman," he mused out, before placing a gentle kiss upon your forehead, causing you to blush more. "You seem to understand what will happen if you lead me awry, so I accept your terms." 


	10. Twisting The Game II (Petyr x RealWorld!Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This doesn't have any real triggers despite Petyr being Petyr.

The clamor outside of hooves brought your attention, your heart dropping to your stomach. You had been staying with Petyr for about a week, holed up in his whore house by the point that you watched Nex Stark walk out that door after addressing Petyr. Swallowing hard, you wasted no time glancing to Petyr before you had run out that door, standing not far behind Ned Stark. 

"Blood will spill, my lord," you said anxiously, glancing from Ned Stark to the rest of his guard. "I cannot tell you how I know, but your best man will die if you do not send him off." 

"Lady Y/N," Ned addressed curiously, glancing between you and the man in question. He could see the seriousness in your eyes, the worry behind them. Though he knew not why you cared, as he knew you had been at Petyr's whore house, he still found belief in your eyes. "You would do well to head back inside." 

"What's the meaning of this, Lannister?" Petyr spoke, before you twirled back to glance at the man. 

"My Lord, go back inside where it's safe," you whispered, biting your lip. 

"My lady," Petyr said sternly, turning to you before he motioned for you to follow him back inside. 

Begrudgingly, you did, making your way back to his office with a sigh. "He won't die today," you said as you crossed your legs, sitting upon Petyr's couch. "But all of his men will." 

"Though you look the part, you lack the outward discipline of your disguise," Petyr spoke as he walked in, surely alerting the knights before he had joined you in his office. "I doubt warning him has anything to help with our quest." 

"It does not," you said with an eye roll, crossing your arms over your chest. "It was in hopes of preventing that unnecessary bloodshed. Clearly they have the wrong Lannister captive anyhow." 

"Oh, is that so?" Petyr questioned, moving to sit beside you. "Then who, pray tell, should speak for their crime?" 

"Oh, my dear Lord Baelish," you teased, a smirk against your lips as you stared into the snake's eyes. "You and I both know I won't outlive my usefulness by spoiling something so far ahead." 

"You wound me," he spoke, rolling his eyes as he leaned back upon the couch beside you. "It would have been easiest to disguise you as a common whore, and yet you refused to play that part." 

"If you saw me exposed, you would understand why that would be a dead giveaway," you replied with a huff, your lips curling downwards. "Anyhow, I'm here as your informant, my Lord, not to make you a little extra coin." 

"I'm sure you would make more than a little coin, my dove," he teased, his eyes raking down your body in a lewd manner before averting his gaze back to your eyes. "You're a rare commodity." 

"Surely," you replied sarcastically. 

"I admit, I am curious," he replied, "as I have seen you in very little." 

"You would do best not to press your luck," you replied sharply. "I'm well decorated. Let's leave it at such." 

Petyr simply chuckled in a hollow tone in reply, though he moved one of his arms to wrap around your shoulder. "A virgin is no embarrassment, my Lady," he spoke, his voice barely of a whisper as his lips had been curled upwards into a smirk. "It's a redeeming quality, if you will." 

"Sharing that information would be rather crass," you spoke with furrowed brows. "And inappropriate for our arrangement." Though you said it, the way his warmth surrounded you, hot breath against your ear as he spoke, you found your cheeks lit with blush. The snake had already sunk his teeth into your very soul, and you were transparent with the venomous attraction you shamefully felt for the man. 

"It's a shame," he replied, cupping your cheek as he allowed his thumb to trace your cheekbone gently, "as you seem rather fond of me." 

"Shall we move on to our next objective, my Lord, or do you feel you have something to gain from this?" You replied with a quirked brow, your gaze never leaving his greenish gray eyes. 

  
  



	11. Twisting The Game III (Petyr x RealWorld!Reader)

Already, you had been used to the scores of whores that Lord Baelish commanded, simply sitting not far from Lord Baelish as two of the women practiced upon one another. Petyr was writing who knew what while you sat with a book, simply overhearing the roaring of the fake moans that slipped from the redhead's lips. Though she had been quite beautiful, her moans sounded worse than a poorly scripted porno. As her moans continued, you finally shut your book with a finger in the page, glancing up. 

"It doesn't sound even halfway believable," you mused out, a frown atop your lips. "What man would believe in that." 

Petyr glanced to you before yelling to the whores, confirming your suspicions that the woman had been faking it wrong. The two switched positions, the other acting as the man as the two seemed more believable. After a while, the redhead called out to you, "Why don't you join us, my Lady?" With almost a smirk against her lips, she continued. "Maybe you could demonstrate a better sound." 

"I don't partake, I'm afraid," you replied with a gentle smile. 

"You would be kept in confidant," the other assured you. "Unless you're saving yourself for someone." 

"I had once," you said fondly, placing the book upon your lap as you recalled your old lover. "He had been an artist, my body as his canvas. Called me his masterpiece." 

"And what happened with him?" The redhead questioned curiously, though her eyes had not strayed from the woman she had been practicing with. 

"He perished," you replied simply, moving your gaze back to your book. "But that was long ago. Nothing came of it but some artwork before he passed on." 

"You're still pure, my lady," the redhead mused with a chuckle. "How interesting." 

"There's no shame in it," Petyr commented, a smirk against his lips. "I, too, have been saving myself." 

You glanced to Petyr knowingly, before moving back to your book as he told the story of his love of Catalyn Stark. Though, you could admit to yourself that you were growing rather fond of Petyr, you could not help feeling a touch down that you knew neither of you would find love. As you had not belonged in this dimension, and Petyr would fuck his way to the Iron Throne, neither of you were in a positive position. 

After a while, the two whores had gone on their way, leaving you and Petyr alone in the room. He had looked up from his musings, glancing over to you as you read. A softness played in his gray green eyes as he studied you, before finally breaking the silence. "You still love him," he spoke, more as a statement than a question. "How did your husband die?" 

"Husband?" You chuckled, closing your book as you glanced upon the man. "Oh, yes, in this world of yours, it's strange for a woman over age to be without one. The lover I had and I never married. Twenty three was young to marry, where I came from. His death came from a crash, but it's been years, my Lord. I don't feel anything towards the man any longer." 

"That gives you the freedom to marry," he suggested kindly, a smirk against his lips. "With such beauty, I'm sure there would be plenty of suitors for you." 

"That would muck up our plans," you countered with a chuckle. "Unfortunately, without me, you'll meet a gruesome fate." 

Petyr moved to sit beside you, a quirked brow as he studied your face. "Would you like to share my gruesome fate?" He questioned, leaning in slightly as he spoke. "Or, do you simply wish to save yourself in hopes that I fall for you?" His breath against your lips caused your heart to race, though you knew the game he had been playing. 

"I would never lead you awry, my Lord," you replied softly. "If I were interested in your outward appearance, it would not matter as such." 

"I seem to recall someone mentioning that I was the most handsome man in all seven kingdoms," he teased with a smirk. 

"You're never going to let me live that one down," you replied with an eye roll. "It's to be expected. Just be happy that out of all your informants, you actually have someone who knows everything that happens." 

"I still question your knowledge," he mused in reply, though he had not leaned back from his spot. "You have yet to prove an unlimited knowledge, nor will you show me this supposed artwork." 

"Have I not led you right so far, my lord?" You replied with an eye roll. "If you wish for a small bit of more information, you'll lose Harrenhal in the upcoming war, but gain something much better." 

"And you won't tell me what I'm going to gain?" He questioned curiously, moving a hand to cup your cheek. Brushing a gentle thumb against your now blushing cheek, he continued. "You do like to tease me, don't you, my Lady?" 

Breath hitched in your throat, you simply stared into his green gray gaze for a moment, admiring the handsome man before you. If you were to trick yourself for a moment, believe the snake before you had not still loved Catalyn, you may have closed the gap. "I simply will give you information as it is needed, my Lord," you replied with a gentle smirk. "I know better than to throw all cards on the table." 

"I fear what would happen if you were to fall into the wrong hands," he said with a soft chuckle, finally giving you a little space as his hand moved from your face. "Intelligent and beautiful. I do wonder why it is you wish to claim the Iron Throne with me, or if you plan to rid yourself of me when the time is right." 

  
  
  



	12. Twisting The Game IV (Petyr x RealWorld!Reader)

Acting the part of a Lady of the Red Keep was something that Petyr had not been able to particularly teach you himself. He had, instead, offered you someone who would be able to keep a secret. The first time you met the short Lannister, you had not been shocked that he thought you to be a common wench. 

"I won't ask you why you must blend in," he said in your meeting, pouring himself a glass of wine as he sat in your room that Petyr had managed to pull strings to get you in the Red Keep. "I do wonder what you believe the Master of Coin has in store for you. You seem like an intelligent woman." 

"You flatter me, my lord," you said with a smile, leaning back against the chair you had been sitting in. "I'm indebted to you for your help." 

"No matter that I'm teaching you formalities, Y/N," he said with an eye roll, taking a sip from his cup, "you needn't be so formal with an imp." 

"You're a strategist," you replied. “Don’t sell yourself short, Tyrion. Just because your father doesn’t see your skill, it does not mean it isn’t there.”

“So, from what I understand, you’re not one of Littlefinger’s whores,” he said crassly, handing you a small goblet of wine with a smile against his lips. “Does that make you a free woman, or is he attempting to court you?" 

“Free,” you replied as you took a sip of your wine. “But in this world, what does free truly even mean? We climb the ladder with our own goals, and even when you know everything to happen, you realize that you screw up the timeline.”

“You’re an informant,” he deduced quickly, a chuckle escaping his lips as he took another sip of his wine. “How much is he paying you, or is he simply blackmailing you?”

“Out of this world, you’re trustworthy enough, Tyrion,” you said with a soft laugh. “It’s simply self-preservation. There's a war coming, and I'm sure you realize that, thanks to your sister and brother's arrangement." 

"You truly do not beat around the bush," he commented thoughtfully. "I'm curious as to why a woman I barely know knows so much about my siblings, though." 

"If you simply gaze upon your sister's children, its blatantly obvious," you replied with a shrug. "How everyone else is so blind to that is beyond me. Your sister also believes that she's untouchable, and that will make her hit her downfall in years to come." 

"I don't believe in magic if that's what you're getting at," he said skeptically as he took another sip of his drink. "Unless it's a threat." 

"Neither, I guess," you replied with a shrug. "It's the Targaryen girl who poses a threat to your family's well-being, but you'll be safe by then. I- I shouldn't say much more, as if Petyr found I was telling you these things, I'm sure he would rid himself of me." 

"You have no concerns to me spouting off to him," Tyrion spoke with a smile. "I'd like to hear more about you, though. What do you enjoy?"

  
  


***

"My Lady," Petyr's voice greeted behind you, clearly a smirk against his lips before you even turned to see his handsome face. 

You had been walking the halls of the Red Keep, blending in out in the open. After all of Tyroin's training to make you a proper woman of the high stature, you had learned how to blend in without being seen. Your fake background kept you from hitting the radar of the Lannisters. Petyr had known better than to make too many public meetings with you as to keep from raising suspicion. 

"My Lord," you spoke in a whisper, greeting him with a gentle glance as the two of you continued walking down the hallway. "What do I owe the pleasure?" 

"I have noticed that you have been growing close to others," he mentioned thoughtfully. "You would not be forgetting about me in your comfortable arrangement, now would you?" 

"Oh, you wound me, my Lord," you replied with a gentle smile against your lips. "You have no concerns to that. May I ask why the public appearance?" As you spoke, you made sure to whisper, hoping that no one may hear. "As I'm sure it's not simply your whispers to see the two of us." 

"Simply making sure it does not look as if I'm avoiding your presence here in the Red Keep," he spoke softly in reply. "And curious as to why my whispers have seen Varys seeking you out." 

"For that, we will have to speak in private," you replied, glancing knowingly back at Petyr. "Don't think that you're the only one contributing to this venture, my Lord." 

"You're not planning to whore around, are you?" He questioned, his voice low, but his tongue sharp. 

"Besides the fact that I can't bed a eunuch, I don't plan on wasting my flower," you replied sharply. "Are you hoping that I do?" 

"No, no," Petyr replied quickly, the two of you turning the corner as you did. With a swift motion, a quick motion, he had you pinned against the wall, his lips mere centimeters from yours. "I would heavily suggest against it." 

"Don’t tell me you're falling for me, my Lord," you teased with a smirk. "No matter how alluring you pinning me against this wall is, we have a while to go. Wouldn't want whispers to turn our favor." 

"I would say it is you, my Lady, falling for me," he whispered before he quickly straightened himself up, moving to begin walking once more. 

"You truly have the imagination," you replied with a smirk, though you could not rid your cheeks of the blush that splayed across them. "Unfortunately, it'll be your cock sleeping us up the ladder." 

"Could someone be jealous?" He teased with a smirk against his lips. "My Lady, you flatter me." 

"Don’t press your luck, my Lord," you replied sharply. 

As expected, when the sun stopped bathing the world in light that eve, Petyr slipped into your room quietly. He had not bothered knocking as you lied awake upon your bed, listening to his quiet steps approaching. His green gray eyes studied your figure lying overtop the sheets before he moved to sit beside you, dipping the edge of the bed as he did. 

"My Lord," you whispered fondly as you moved to prop yourself up to gaze upon the man, still keeping the comfort of your bed as you did. 

"Petyr," he corrected softly, his voice barely a whisper as his gaze met your own. "When we're behind closed doors, please call me Petyr." 

"Don’t believe you can sway me outside of formality, Petyr," you replied with a smirk. "On top of the information I possess, I also know you down to your mannerisms." 

"I do not possess words to describe how much you flatter me, Y/N," he chided with a smirk upon his lips. 

"Your flirtation would be tempting if it wasn't hollow," you replied with a roll of your eyes. "Too bad I'm not a fool." 

"Your lack of trust in me is obvious, and the wisest thing about you," he mused out with a soft, hollow chuckle. "So, what did Varys want with you?" 

"He had musings about you and I, to start," you said, moving to sit beside him as you did. "Warning me of what I already know. He had also been curious about me, likely trying to figure out exactly why you've found so much interest in me." 

"What did you tell him?" He questioned curiously. 

Cheekily, you smirked, leaning against the handsome man as you spoke. "Clearly, I told him that I was bedding you, and that your interests were pure," you jested, before retracting to chuckle softly. "Of course I jest. I simply told him that you were simply being kind to me, that everything we speak is simply friendly banter." 

"You spoke longer to him than simply a few words," he countered with a quirked brow. "What else?" 

"Nothing of importance," you said with a roll of your eyes. "He asked why I haven't been wed. Poking and prodding to try and get my story out." 

"Did you supply him with any information?" He pressed. 

"Simply a whisper that I'm sure he already knew," you replied with a smirk. 

Pressing you against your bed, your hands had been pinned over your head as green gray eyes glowered down upon you. "You are my informant, not the spider's," he spat venomously, his breath hot against your lips. "If I need to mark you for you to remember that, I shall." 

"You truly are hard to track," you murmured, feeling your core heat the slightest bit under the man's force. "I simply proved myself useful with non-damaging information, Petyr. It's all to help us. There is someone who plans to betray you by breathing to Varys, but I can promise you that I would gain nothing as such." 

"Is that so?" Petyr questioned curiously, still hovering above you. "Whom?" 

"Ros," you spoke, your breath barely above a whisper. The heat in your core had been rising as his body continued to press against you, your breath stuttered as you felt your mouth drying. "This information would become apparent to you soon, as you offer Sansa something in particular, but Varys will attempt to ruin your plans. He will try to set the young woman with a husband." 

"And what do I do to stop this?" He questioned, his green gray eyes not leaving your gaze. 

You found your y/e/c gaze flicker down to his lips, before meeting his eyes once more. "Unless you plan on kissing me, Petyr, could we speak normally?" You questioned, your heart tightening as you felt yourself desiring that kiss from him. "I won't lie and say it's adequate to focus like this." 

"Does this truly distract you?" He questioned, dipping his face the slightest bit further down, so that his lips nearly brushed your own. "Y/N…" 

"Petyr," you breathed out, your heart speeding as you felt the man so close he could nearly devour you. In this moment, your mind had been blank, desire consuming you. Though you knew Petyr had been the road to heartbreak, in this very moment, you wished to tilt your lips upwards the slightest bit. "Yes, it's rather distracting." 

Petyr allowed your hands free as he moved to prop himself over top of you, though his lips dipped the slightest bit more to steal your lips. His lips melded with your own in passion, depth as the two of you connected. As he felt your fingertips carding through his peppered locks, he groaned softly into your lips. 

"Unexpected, though I'm not complaining," you whispered as you separated, Petyr's forehead leaned against your own. 

"You're my lady, you know," he murmured softly. "Mine alone." 

"You truly wish to claim me, Petyr?" You questioned him curiously, moving your hand to cup his cheek as you stroked his cheek gently with your thumb. His stubble tickled your thumb as you did. "What benefit does that have for you in the long game?" 

"My sweetling, you must understand what claiming the throne by my side meant when you made the first arrangement," he whispered softly, his voice nearly dripping with sweetness as he spoke. "You will be my Queen." 

"Of course," you replied softly, a smirk against your lips as you pressed a chaste kiss against his lips. "But don't believe you can fool your informant, Petyr. I know who you'll bed on the way to the top. I pose no benefit until we climb that ladder." 

"That is where you are incorrect," he replied with his snake-like tongue. "If I lost you to another Lord, the game would crumble." 

"And you'd eventually suffer a horrid fate," you said with a smirk. "I see your point, and you have no concerns of that. As for strategy, you may either keep your information from Ros to avoid her anything to breathe to the spider, or…" 

"Or?" He questioned curiously, tempted to claim your lips once more, though the information that slipped from your lips held value to him. 

"Or manipulate the information she hears," you purred with a smirk. "Give him something for us to work with. Ros is also going to warn Sansa's handmaiden to distrust you, possibly us. I can admit the only information I do not possess is revolved around me particularly, as I was not a part of the regular timeline." 

"How do you know that your manipulations to it will have an effect?" He questioned curiously, finally getting off of you as he wished to talk normally. "If you do not know what part you play, how can you be sure everything will work out the way you intend?" 

"You see, Petyr, manipulating the right people is something that shall work in our favor," you replied with a smirk. "I know who will die, who will rise close to the Throne, and who is most useful in manipulating it into your hands." 

"And who do you have in mind, Sweetling?" He questioned, attempting to charm you into giving him more information than you intended. 

"Taking the Vale will be your first objective," you replied with a shrug. "In the meantime, I will work to make us a few unknowing allies. Everything comes with time, Petyr. I can warn you that if you disobey one specific piece of advice, I will not be able to save you."

"You truly do not trust me at all," he mused, before moving to place his hands on both sides of your face. Dipping his lips back into your own, he claimed your lips like a couple of high schoolers, hungrily and passionately. Lust was clear in each action, though he eventually left your lips be, with one last chaste kiss before sneaking from your room. 

As he left, you could feel your exhaustion taking over you. Still, you moved to press your fingers against your lips, his taste lingering.  _ Do not fall for that man,  _ you chided yourself, before shifting to lie back down. 


	13. Twisting The Game V (Petyr x RealWorld!Reader)

"Ah, sweet girl," you whispered as you pulled Sansa onto the foggy ship, your voice nearly motherly as Petyr had her other hand. "You're safe now. You're not hurt, are you?" 

"Lord Baelish, Lady L/N?" Sansa questioned, her voice just a bit too long as you moved to place a finger against your own lips to signal for her to be quieter. 

"Petyr," Lord Baelish corrected with a smirk. 

"And simply Y/N," you said with a soft smile. 

"I'm sure you've had quiet a fright," Petyr interjected. "Rest easy. The worst has passed." 

"Lord Baelish," Dontos called up at the three of you, a little too loudly. "I promised I'd get her to you safely." 

"Softly, dear," you called out quietly, hashing him as you leaned over the boat. "Voices carry over water." 

"I should get back before someone thinks to look for me," he said softly in reply, staring up at the three of you. 

"Firstly, you'll want your pay," Petyr corrected, as you moved to stand behind Sansa. "Ten thousand, was it?" 

"Ten thousand," he agreed. 

As footsteps grew close, you got yourself ready, silencing the Stark girl with your hand upon her mouth at the moment she would shriek. Petyr had, of course, found your knowledge to be quite useful as your timing was always impeccable. "Quiet, sweet girl," you murmured at the trembling girl. "You don't wish for the Queen to hear, do you? A thousand gold cloaks are searching for you, and if they found you, how do you think they would punish the girl who murdered the King?" 

"I didn't murder anyone," she said defiantly. 

"No, no, we knew you hadn't," you replied with a soft chuckle. "But suspicions are high. If Cersie believes you have, especially as the Lannisters have killed just about everyone you love, you would be killed on sight."

"Why did you kill him?" She asked, glancing down qt the man who was skewered with arrows at the boat below. 

"Because he was a drunk and a fool," Petyr said. "And I don't trust drunken fools." 

"He saved me," she countered. 

"He only saved you because we gave him orders to do so," you chimed in softly. "For gold. He did it all for gold, not out of the righteousness of his heart." 

"Money buys a man's silence for a time," Petyr chimed in. "A bolt in the heart buys it forever." 

"He was helping me because I saved his life," she countered harshly. 

"Qnd he gave you a necklace made by his grandmother," Petyr continued as you moved to unclasp the necklace, placing it upon the edge of the boat for Petyr to break. "The last legacy of House Hollard. I had it made a few weeks ago. What did I once tell you about the capital?" 

"We're all liars here," Sansa spoke, realization finally hitting her. 

You allowed the two to walk away, Petyr slipping the broken necklace onto the man from above before shooing the woman off with her. As you knew the current turn of events, you knew that the worst was yet to come. The hardest bridges to pass for the two of you had been coming quickly, and part of you wondered what of it Petyr would listen to. You wondered if he would truly change his strategy, allowing for the two of you to actually take the Iron Throne together. 

_ Do not fall for this man,  _ you chided yourself as you allowed the brisk wind to slip through your y/h/c locks, nipping upon your exposed skin.  _ Do not let him sway you.  _

"My Lady," you could hear behind you, a gentle hand upon your shoulder. "Surely it's time to retire under deck. It will be a long journey back home." 

You rolled your eyes, though you moved with Petyr as he guided you silently back to your room under deck. Upon the closing of the cabin's doors, you slipped into something more comfortable, before slipping into your bed. 

Beside you, the snake did the same, lying in his undergarments as he scooched in beside you. Gently, he wrapped his arms around your waist as he pulled you to him. "I've missed you, my Sweetling," he murmured into your ear, his stubble tickling your neck as he curled in close to you. "I admit that I was fearful of your survival." 

Turning your head to catch his green gray gaze, you pressed a chaste kiss against his lips. "I knew who wouldn't kill me while you were away," you murmured softly. "For those who could have, I did arm myself." 

"So, you believe yourself to be dangerous now?" He teased as he moved to pin you down, hovering over top of you. "Are you so sure?" 

"Dangerous is retrospective," you murmured under your breath as you felt yourself getting hot under his gaze. "A little self-defense when everyone's going to want to kill us doesn't hurt, though." 

"No one's touched you, have they?" He murmured, caressing your sides with his gentle, skillful hand as his gaze had yet to leave your own. 

You could feel your cheeks heating with blush as you shook your head. "No one's tried and lived to see another day," you assured him with a smirk. 

"Good, good," he murmured, his own smirk stretched across his face. "I desire so badly to make you mine, but we both know what is next on this journey." 

"Ah, yes," you murmured in reply. "I know all too well, though it shall be fleeting." 

"Do I hear a hint of jealousy, Sweetling?" He teased, his smirk growing across his face. 

You chuckled softly, rolling your eyes as your smirk grew across your face. "The images are still engraved in my mind," you said softly. "No matter if I literally stood and watched, I've still already seen it all." 

"It must be a curse for you," he mused softly. "Knowing everything in vivid details." 

"At this point, the Targaryen girl has just recently taken Maureen, Arya Stark is working her way with the Hound to our same destination, and there's 100,000 wildlings making their way to the wall," you said with furrowed brows. "Out of all of those knowledges, I literally can picture the moment Sansa walks out of the room with Robin and she throws herself upon you, begging to marry that night." Biting your lip gently, you quirked a brow up at him. "Did you find a good lie for what I am?" 

"I said that you were Catalyn's Snow," he replied quietly. "Sansa's half sister by blood." 

"Despite the fact that I'm elder than all her children," you said with a sigh, "I also look nothing like a Tully. At least she doesn't have to believe it for too long." 

"I desire to spend the rest of this night wiping those images from your mind," he murmured, dipping his head down for his lips to brush your neck. Dipping into his sweet spot, he let his body press further against you as he planted kisses against your collar bone up to your ear. "Sweetling, you must understand that you're the one I want. Everything I need to do, I will be doing for us." 

"I know, Petyr," you mewled, your core heating with each kiss.  _ I simply look forward to seeing her fly out that sky door,  _ you thought to yourself through each kiss. 

His trail led to your lips, which he continued to steal heated kisses with until the two of you would tire. Though your mind knew not to trust the snake who's lips connected yours, your heart had already begun to sway towards the snake. Each advance he made brought a warmth into your core with lust, and each time you tasted his lips, your heart would flutter in your chest. 

*** 

"Who are you really?" Sansa questioned curiously as the three of you walked down the way towards the Vale. "If you're supposedly passing off as my half sister." 

"Lady L/N is someone I owe my life to," Petyr chimed in with a smile. "If she were to stay at the Red Keep, she would have her head on a spike as well." 

"I understand," she replied softly, a smile against her lips. "You have been nothing but kind to me since I've met you." 

"I've always enjoyed you," you replied with a gentle smile. "And apologize for the touch of mystery." 

"It would be best for the two of you to put your cloaks up," Petyr mentioned to the two of you, glancing between the two of you as you were growing closer to the entrance. He began explaining how impenetrable the Vale was, the way that only three soldiers in a line could be side by side at a time. 

Upon laying your sights on Lady Arryn, you had to force yourself to smile shyly. Sansa had greeted the woman prior to her setting her sights upon you, giving her a warm opening as she told her that she knew who she was. As her gaze landed upon you, though, she had paused for merely a second. 

"You're my half-niece," she murmured, looking upon you as she moved your cloak from your head yourself. "How delightful!" As she spoke, she moved her hand to your face, studying your features. "You're such a beauty. I hear that you're unmarried, my dear?" 

"I am, yes," you said shyly, playing your part though your stomach churned with uncertainty. The woman had a young son, a very young son. There was no way she would live long enough to actually set you to marry the literal child, but your stomach still churned. 

"You will make a wonderful match for my Robin," she said excitedly, before telling the boy to see the two of you to your rooms. 

With one last glance at Petyr, you were dragged off with Sansa and Robin.


	14. Twisting The Game VI (Petyr x RealWorld!Reader)

You writhed with knowledgeable anger, lying upon your bed in the Vale as you listened to Lady Arryn screaming out Petyr's name. It had not even been two days since the three of you arrived at the Vale, and though it had all been expected, running the course as planned, that night upon the ship made you wonder otherwise. Knowing the kisses, the promises, the snake whispered to you, you could not help your jealousy. 

The Vale held no warmth for you, and you had been thankful for the solidarity of your room, as tears stained your cheeks.  _ This is silly,  _ you thought to yourself as you attempted to block out the noise with your hands.  _ It was not nearly as wounding when I watched the show.  _

Even as you woke the next morning, not sure what time you actually managed to drift off to sleep the night prior, you could still feel those feelings rattling around in your mind. Maybe part of you cursed yourself for not lying with the whoremonger before he sunk his cock into that disgusting woman, while another part of you thanked yourself that you had not gotten involved physically with him. Surely your face read of your disgruntled feelings, as you felt a gentle hand upon your back, practically jumping in surprise. 

"Shall we have a word, Lady Y/N?" He questioned, a smirk clear in his voice. "Out in the garden." 

Allowing a relieved sigh to escape your lips, you forced a smile against them as you nodded. "Of course, my lord," you replied simply, allowing the man to take your arm in his as the two of you walked to the garden. Though his arm felt right in yours, you could not help the echoing of the woman's grotesque moans still lingering in your mind. 

"You clearly heard," he practically teased as the two of you walked in the garden. "Did you think I would nof bed my wife?" 

"I knew you would," you replied with an eye roll. "I just didn't expect it to be so loud in person." 

"Would you have rathered it been you calling out my name, Y/N?" He questioned, a smirk clear against his lips. 

"You know as well as I not to tease of that, my lord," you replied with a roll of your eyes, though you could not ignore the way that his words truly heated your core. "No matter how correct you may be." 

*** 

The moment that the two children began fighting, Robin throwing a temper tantrum as he kicked the snow castle that Sansa built, you finally stepped in. With aggravation, you stepped in front of Sansa as you slapped the boy across the face. Behind you, you could hear Sansa's gasp as the little lord ran off. 

"The incessant bickering was escalating much too far," you replied with a shrug. "I'd suggest you head back inside and steer clear. She'll be aggravated at me, not you, dear." 

"I can't believe you hit him," she said in shock, though you could tell a gentle chuckle stifled in her words as she moved to do as you said. 

Within moments, you watched as Sansa had made her way inside, her Tully locks no longer in view. With her departure, you could hear the crunching of the snow beneath Petyr's feet upon his approach. "I happen to see it as a step in the right direction," he mused as he drew closer to you. "Though his mother should have done that, a long time ago." 

"I'm sure in this world, a snow doing that to a little Lord would easily get them to throw me right out the moon door," you replied with a roll of your eyes, though your heart beat wildly in your chest. 

"It would," Petyr confirmed, "but you have no need to worry of that, my Lady." 

"My Lord, I'm sure-" you replied, before you felt an extra warmth wrapped around you. His lips had already been pressed to yours before you had a moment to counter. 

"Petyr, my love," he replied as he separated from you, his green gray eyes shimmering as he stared upon you. "I admittedly have fallen for you, Y/N. Be it that I'm too tired to dance around the subject of love, or worried someone will overhear...I love you." 

"I...I love you, too, Petyr," you breathed out in shock, before his lips connected with yours once more. 

"In a better world, I could simply drop everything and just be with you," he said softly, staring into your eyes as he spoke. 

"I know," you replied with a soft chuckle. "In my world, success never came with this much of a price. Shall we go take the gamble with my life?" 

"You know as well as I, that I would never let you die," he said in a reassuring tone, placing one last gentle kiss upon your lips before the two of you separated. Surely, Lysa Arryn had seen at least one of those kisses, and you knew as well as he that you would be called to the Moon Door soon. 


	15. Twisting The Game VII (Petyr x RealWorld!Reader)

The moment you walked into the throne room, the eerie whistling of the wind entered your ears. With each step you took closer, before you had come to a halt, you could feel your heart beating faster. The woman who stood in front of the Moon Door had every reason to let you fly, and you could see it upon her face. It was as if you were walking in Sansa Stark's shoes in the show, and yet, it was you. 

"You wished to see me, Aunt Lysa?" You asked, a stutter to your tone. Though you had attempted to keep the stutter from your tone, it was hard for you not to shake. Everything about your life in this world had been a gamble, a strategic gamble, and you knew you would be so close to death this eve. 

"Come here, Y/N," the woman said, her tone quiet and calculated. 

With each stride you took, you could feel your heart bury itself in your throat. You made sure to stand a good step and a half away from the Moon Door, though you could feel the chill of the wind whisping as you glanced over to the woman beside you. Your lips curled neither upwards nor downwards as you stood, awaiting for her to begin speaking. 

"Do you know how far the fall is?" She questioned, never glancing upon you. 

"I do not," you replied softly, staring upon the moon door itself. 

"Neither do I, precisely," she replied. "Hundreds of feet. It's fascinating, what happens to bodies when they hit the rocks from such a height. The impact breaks them right apart, like eggs dropped on the floor. Some pieces remain intact. You'll find the head sitting on its own, every hair in place. Y/e/c eyes staring at nothing." 

Silence fell upon the two of you for more than a minute, the anticipation killing you as you waited in silence over your own possible death. No matter how much faith you had in Petyr following instruction, a plan he would already have in place if it had not been for you, you still felt anxious. Though you had not been sure how genuine his words were, you were falling in love with the snake. 

"I know what you did," she said finally. 

Knowing you had to play the dumb card, you had. "I'm so sorry, Aunt Lysa," you said softly, genuine sorrow dripping from your stuttering lips. "I never should have hit Robin. I knew it, and yet I couldn't stand to see the look on Sansa's face. I-I promise it won't happen-." 

"Don’t be coy with me, you little whore!" Lysa snapped back upon you, her face already contorting with anger. "You kissed him. You kissed Petyr. You threw yourself at him!" 

"I can explain!" You pressed. "It was all a misunderstanding!" 

"You can't lie, Y/N," she spat. "I saw it with my own eyes." 

As she spoke, she moved to grab you already, beginning to thrust you by your hair down towards the Moon Door. In this moment, adrenaline pumped through your body. Struggling in her grasp, you gripped as tightly as you could to the edge so that she wouldn't push you in. 

"My father, my husband, my sister, they all stood between us, and now they're all dead," she spat as she pressed down upon you. "That's what happens to people who stand between Petyr and me. You, you're just a bastard and a whore! Look down! Look down! Look down! Look down, you bastard!" 

"Lysa," you could hear Petyr call from the doorway. "Let her go!" 

"You want her?" Lysa cried. "This bastard whore who can give you nothing?" 

"Let her go," Petyr repeated sternly. 

"She'll never love you the way I do!" She spat back. "I lied for you, I killed for you! What would this bastard ever do for you? Why did you bring her here? Why?" 

"I'll send her away," he assured her. "I swear on my life. I swear to all the gods. Let het go, Lysa." 

For a moment, Lysa pressed even harder upon you, forcing you to tighten your grip more on the rocky railing. Your breath hitched in your throat as your mind began to dizzy. Tears stained your cheeks as you wondered in this moment if you were actually going to just die. Pushing you hard, you smacked the concrete with a thud, blood dripping from the tear the edge of the concrete did to your leg, but at that moment, you were on solid ground as the woman cried. 

"Oh, my sweet wife," Petyr spoke, walking towards Lysa. "My sweet, silly wife." As he spoke, he moved her to stand, before continuing in a genuine tone. "I have only loved one woman, only one, my entire life. Your sister." As he spoke, he pushed the woman in shock out the Moon Door, staring as she fell further and further down. The faint scream could be heard as she plummeted. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, you moved to stand to your feet carefully, walking away from the Moon Door as you had. "For a second, I was actually sure that I miscalculated," you murmured softly, allowing a breath you hadn't known you were holding to escape. 

"I didn't expect her to throw you so hard," he said softly, moving to wrap his arms around you. "You've been hurt." 

"I'm fine," you replied with a soft chuckle. "It's just a scratch. Far better a fate than I was thinking about ten minutes ago." 

"Come, come," he urged, moving to grab your hand for you to follow him. "We will have to deal with the explaination in the morning as to Lysa Arryn's suicide, but you have been through so much." 

As the two of you returned to a room you were unsure of, it took moments for Petyr to pick you up and lie you on the bed himself. You practically squeaked as you were moved to the bed, though you stared upon the man fondly. "Petyr," you questioned, a quirked brow as you stared upon the handsome man disrobing. 

"I would like to see your artwork, Y/N," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. "I'm not asking to bed you tonight, but I emplore you. I wish to see all of you, learn all of you." 

With a soft laugh, you moved to slip off your own outfit, slowly as the robes you wore had been complicated. You moved to prop yourself up so that you could properly slip them off, slipping your undergarments off as you had. The gasp that escaped Petyr's lips caused you to glance upwards at him once more, before he moved to your side. 

Gently, his hands traced your artwork, beginning upon your right underboob and tracing to the left, before tracing downwards upon the middle of your stomach, down to the piece just above your belt line. "Sweetling, you are so unique," he murmured as he did, his hand moving slowly. "You are gorgeous, and this is unlike anything I have ever seen." 

"You truly like it?" You questioned, quirking a brow before he moved to press his lips against yours in a chaste kiss. 

"Like it?" He questioned with a smirk. "You are perfect, Y/N. The most gratifying part is that they are placed where only I will ever see." 

"May I ask you something?" You questioned, curling closer to Petyr as you spoke. Receiving a nod, you continued. "Did you mean what you said in the garden?" 

"That I have fallen in love with you?" He questioned, a smirk across his lips. "Or that I wish it were easier, that we could live in a world where the world was ruled by love?" 

"The first part," you replied, somewhat sheepishly as you stared upon him. "The second I cannot believe, as a world of peace would grow dull on you, Petyr. You know me not to be daft." 

"Indeed, you are vastly intelligent," he replied, moving his hand from your tattoos to your cheek. Brushing his thumb gently against your cheekbone, his lips curled upwards the slightest bit. "And far too intelligent to trust me, Sweetling. I love you so, with all my heart. I know you will be weary of those words." 

"And you are wise to believe that, Petyr," you replied with a soft chuckle, your own lips curling upwards as you spoke. "I know not to trust you, and I truly am weary of your decisions to come. I have admittedly fallen in love with you, no matter those concerns." 

"What do you suggest?" He questioned as he moved to pull you closer. "Staying here will not bring us closer to the Iron Throne, and getting Sansa to seize Winterfell, to seize the north, would pave our way." 

"We may still be able to get away with it," you mused out, biting your lip gently. "She did not witness Lysa's words, and knows not of your involvement. It will be a gamble, though. I know in her position, I would not be one to forgive."

"I wish for you to ride with us," he said, holding you closely as he rested his forehead against your own. 

"Would that not raise suspicions, especially as I have no relation to you, and your wife has just passed?" You questioned with a quirked brow, your gaze studying his. "In sincerity, I'm more concerned not to ride with you, but the questions raised may tarnish you a great deal more." 

"I fear for your safety," he murmured, before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "I would be lost without you." 

"My sweet Lord," you murmured with a chuckle. "Your throat would be slit without me. Forgive me for not entirely trusting your intentions." 

"There's nothing to forgive," he assured you gently. 


	16. Twisting The Game VIII (Petyr x RealWorld!Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of what I have in my doc for this one. I'm afraid I wrote this when I first watched GoT...back when they were still making episodes for it. I'm unsure of if this will ever continue, but if enough people would be interested in seeing it onwards, I can see where I can do some rewatching. Something like this would definitely require keeping a good knowledge of the storyline throughout.

With the trial behind you, the mourning of Sansa Stark significantly different than it had been when she had watched Petyr kill Lysa in the show, you could feel concern swirling inside of you. Sansa had been vaguely mentioned of a marriage proposal that the three of you would ride to deliver, and upon that journey, you were used as an infomant. 

Upon your journey, you knew where not to stop, as Brienne and Podrick would be at the Tavern Petyr would suggest. You advised against it, and Petyr had not trusted for you to ride upon a horse other than his own. As you rode, you loosely gripped his sides, no matter how much you wanted to tightly grip his waist. 

Arriving with Petyr and Sansa, the guards waited nearby in case any trouble would be about. You walked past Reek, a pain in your heart as your eyes shifted to him for a mere moment, before focusing once more. Knowing that you were in danger at every turn, you stayed close to Sansa for as long as you could. 

"I want you to be careful," you whispered to the woman quietly, moving to grab her hand gently as you did. Catching her Tully eyes, you forced your lips upwards the slightest bit. "I always worry for your safety, my Lady." 

"This may be the safest place for me," she said with a soft upturn of her lips. "I am indebted to your kindness."

Biting your own, you replied, "Even so, keep yourself protected." 

"You love him," she murmured with a gentle gasp, before a chuckle escaped her lips. "Do you not?" 

"No, my Lady," you said with a soft laugh, your lips curling upwards the slightest bit more. "The persuit of love seems to be a fool's game, after all. I find it best to keep a clear mind. For you, though, I hope you find prosperitous love in your suitor. He seems kind." 

Before Sansa was able to say another word to you, she was pulled off to her chambers, and you felt Petyr's hand upon your back. "We must stay a bit longer," he mentioned to you, "so that I may send a raven to the Queen Mother." 

"Ah, Cersie," you chuckled softly as you followed along with Petyr. "She's ruining everything for herself, but those fanatics will be sacking your whore houses." Witb your words, they were quiet, followed by a frown. "All of that will be burnt down soon regardless, so there's no true concern in that, but I would send a raven before she sends someone to kill us." 

"Lord Bolton does not trust us," he murmured softly. 

"As I told you he would not," you replied. 

"Lady Snow," you were greeted as the two of you made your way into the Warden's chambers. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Lord Baelish has spoken fondly of you." As Petyr moved away from you, Roose moved to grab your hand, planting a gentle kiss upon your knuckles before glancing up at you once more. "You are truly a rare beauty." 

"You flatter me, my Lord," you replied softly, attempting not to stutter as much as you could. You smiled brightly in reply, a forced smile as you attempted to win him over. "It's a pleasure to see this alliance formed." 

"You know as well as I that you care not for the politics of it all," he spoke, a wry smile against his lips. "If you had the proper last name, I still wouldn't give such a beauty to my son." 

The time that passed that Petyr had the raven sent could not have been long enough as the two of you finally left the Bolton's territory. Sansa's horse had been left with her, while you still rode upon the back of Petyr's, heading back to the Eirye for the next step in the plans. Upon the way, you stopped at the tavern that you were weary of on the way out, the two of you finally having a little time to yourselves. 

"I swore I wanted to break that man's hand," Petyr spoke through gritted teeth, before he took a sip of his wine. "He swooned over you as if you were a common whore." 

"He swooned over me like the bastard he thought I was," you replied thoughtfully, a smirk against your lips. "Though, if you want to get theoretical, my name means absolutely nothing here anyhow. It's as powerful as Snow." 

"He was eyeing you everywhere you turned, even while you were speaking to Sansa," he chimed in with a grimace. "I was worried he would offer you his hand." 

"And what would either of us gain in that venture?" You retorted, your smirk never leaving your lips. "He knows nothing of my knowledge, and he has a bride, Petyr. No matter how much I wished to burn my hand of the man's touch, I entered that room politically untouchable." 

"Even so," Petyr pressed, "it had not left holding my tongue easy." 

"If you want to talk about holding your tongue, I had to walk past a flayed Theon Greyjoy and lie right to Sansa's face," you retorted, twirling a strand of your y/h/c locks around your fingertip as you took a sip of your wine. "Having compassion in this venture is my biggest flaw." 

"It still lies as your biggest strength, my Lady," Petyr cooed, a smirk against his own lips. "If you had no compassion, do you feel we would have made it this far?"

"If I had no compassion, I would have joined the mother of Dragons and simply stabbed her in the back to sit upon the Throne myself," you whispered with a chuckle. "So, no, no, definitely not." 

"Have you even had the opportunity to do that?" He queried in reply, his green gray eyes questioning you as he studied your features. "The girl is across the seas." 

"The spider," you said with a shrug. "It would have been easy to convince, knowing he's bringing Tyrion there as we speak. Not like he will actually make it, losing him and having the disgraced Mormont ironically finishing their journey for him."

"When you say you know everything that's to happen-," he started, pausing in disbelief. 

"I meant everything," you replied with a smirk. "And yet, I give you small pieces at a time, knowing where we are at to prevent my usefulness dwindled." 

"Do you believe if you were to give me every single event, that I would be able to succeed on my own?" He questioned, leaning closer to you as he intentionally swiped your fingertips with his own. 

Biting your lip, you leaned in close as well, your gaze not leaving his. "I do not," you replied with a smirk. "Something would wrench the plans, or something unexpected would happen due to my very presence here. My influence has caused a great many changes, as to be expected." 

"Do you feel we have made the proper decision?" He questioned, a bit of challenge to his tone. 

"I do," you replied softly. "Though I have concerns, they are lessened. It would be best not to breathe life into the past, though." 

"Am I influencing your tongue?" He queried. 

"I can quote words you have whispered to Varys in confidence, things you would have spoken to Sansa if it was not for my existence," you replied with a smirk. "If I were to speak of my natural tongue, I would be perceived as a foreigner. The only way your tongue influences is of desire." 

"You best watch your tongue, else I'll make you my wife sooner than intended," he spoke in reply, play clear in his eyes. 

"With your display today, my Lord, surely you would have mucked our plans if you were to have seen the fondness from others I received at the Red Keep," you said with an eye roll, though a smirk still played upon your lips. 

"I hope you understand that you needn't leave my side the rest of the duration of our plans," he countered, jealousy clear in his tone. 

"Reactions such as that nearly force my hand to trust your words," you said with a gentle smirk. "Nearly, of course." 

"If anything about me could be considered pure, it would be my love for you," he murmured, barely a whisper, yet just enough that you could hear it with a slight strain. 


	17. Welcome To The 21st Century (Petyr x Fem!Camgirl!Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was my other concept, when Petyr "dies" he is thrown somewhere else instead, unscathed. Really unsure of where I was even going with this, and this was made during a rewatch about...8 months ago? I like the early concept, but doubt this one could continue on without inspiration. 
> 
> Trigger warning? LOTS of swearing. Mentions of provocative/explicit streaming.

Cross-legged, you sat in front of your computer scantily clad in y/f/c lingerie, a wry smile against your lips. Upon your speakers blared My Darkest Days,  _ Set It On Fire _ , as you moved around. Teasing your viewers with flirty banter and a hand gently trailing your leg, your y/e/c orbs reflected bedroom eyes. "Boys, you're all too sweet to me," you cooed out as a cash sound clicked from your computer. Moving to your knees, you slipped both hands to the upper portion of your lingerie, tugging it down with a wink. Pulling it back up, you continued in a flirtatious tone. "We're only 40 tokens away from our goal, boys. Who's going to get this cute little ensemble off of me tonight?" 

As time passed, your outfit was thrown messily to the floor. Your banter continued to flirt, chatting with your current chatroom as you pushed for your next goal. The song had changed to  _ Candy Man  _ by Christina Aguilera and your movements had become faster as you grooved to your song. Tips kept coming in, and for each, you thanked the user in a sweet, flirty way. It had simply been a normal night for you, your stream wrapping up around 1am. 

"Alright, boys, that's enough torment for me tonight," you teased with a smirk against your lips. "You've all been the sweetest. If I could, I'd love to just sit on here for hours playing with you." With a wink, you blew a kiss to your camera. "Until next time!" 

Packing up your computer for the night, you turned it off before moving to leave your room. Towel in hand, you mentally thanked yourself for living alone as you strode to your bathroom for a shower. As you began walking, your house eerily quiet, you could hear a thud. If you were to strain more, you could swear you heard a male's voice. 

With a sigh, you called out, "How many fucking times do I have to tell you to just knock!" Quickly, you rushed back to your room, slipping on the outfit you were wearing prior to your stream, and slipping your knife into your pocket just in case. Though you had been sure it was one of your friends playing a cheeky prank, you were not new to creeps either. 

The voice still had yet to answer you, though there had been a faint grumbling, followed by another thump. An irate groan wished to pass your lips, though you held it back as you slipped your hand into your pocket, pulling out your knife. "I swear if you're fucking with me, I'll kill you anyways," you spat in an unamused tone as you moved to flick the light on. Knife tightly gripped in your hand, your y/e/c orbs glanced around to find that the window had in fact been shut, but there was a figure in your home. 

Peppered locks adorned the struggling male, seemingly grabbing his head with his hands. His adornments were strange to you, significantly more medieval than you had ever seen in person. As he removed his hand from his head, blue eyes staring up at you in confusion. 

For a moment, neither of you spoke a word. Simply staring at one another, confusion in his eyes and a hint of fear in your own. Neither of you dared to speak, though both of you felt the need to ask a million questions. 

Finally, in aggravation, you gripped your knife tighter as you snarled at the man. "What the fuck are you doing in my house?" You spat, trying to cover up that underlying fear. 

"My Lady," he said, confusion in his voice. "I admit I am unsure as to how, let alone why. My deepest apologies for bothering you." 

"My lady," you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "You can't break into someone's house and think being smooth is going to get you out of it. Stand up." 

The man did as you said, standing merely a few inches taller than you, though he had clearly been much older than you. His blue eyes still read of confusion as he glanced from you to your blade, and back to you once more. "What kind of blade is that?" He questioned finally. 

"A knife," you replied with furrowed brows. "Are you on drugs or something?" 

"Forgive my rudeness," he said formally. "I am Lord Baelish, lord protector of the Vale. Who do I have the honor to make the aquaintance of?" 

"Alright," you said in aggravation, rolling your eyes. "You're going to break into my house and role play...what a treat. Dude, it's one in the morning." 

"I'm sorry, my Lady, but I know not of what you're speaking of," he replied in a discomforted tone. "As I said, I am unaware of how I got here. The last thing I remember, I was on trial. Arya Stark! She slit my throat with Valarian Steel." He moved his hand to his neck, feeling for a cut in panic. "I swear by the old gods and new, I died." 

"I don't know what your problem is, but fine, I'll bite," you said, rolling your eyes once more. "Yes, you did, Lord Baelish, and my house is not heaven. You can get the fuck out now." 

"Is that-," he said, clearly distracted. "Is that the Iron Throne? What is that doing here?" 

"Ah, the Iron Throne," you said with a chuckle, walking over to it with a fondness. For a moment, you completely forgot that your intruder was simply that as you used your free hand to slip against the Throne itself. "Harder to come by than you'd think." 

"It's impossible," he spoke as he walked over to it as well, moving to touch it himself gingerly. 

"It's custom made," you said with an eye roll, reality finally setting in. "What's impossible is that you're role playing, uninvited into my home, when I could be showering and getting to fucking bed."

"You don't believe me?" He questioned curiously as his blue eyes shifted over to you. 

"There is only one way that I would even give the notion a thought," you said with narrowed eyes. "The scar." 

"My Lady!" He exclaimed in a discomforted tone, touching his adornment as he spoke. "It would be inappropriate for me to disrobe here, let alone show you my greatest failure." 

"I would not call that the greatest," you replied with a shrug. "Oh fuck it. The couch is over there. Touch anything of mine and I can assure you, I don't need valerian steel to slit your throat." 

"Thank you, my Lady," the man said with a light smirk making its way to his face. "May I at least know what to call you?" 

"Y/N," you said with a sigh. "In the morning, I'm expecting an explanation. The bathroom is down the hall." 

You left for your room to grab yourself sleeping garments, before heading back to your bathroom to shower. Locking the door behind you, you turned the water on and allowed the calming waters to hit your back repeatedly. "I can't believe I didn't just call the cops," you murmured to yourself. "That's a really fucking good cosplay, though."


	18. Welcome To The 21st Century (Petyr x Fem!Camgirl!Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I thought this one was a little longer, but this is only a two parter.

The scent of coffee filled your nostrils as you stretched in your bed, groggily making your way out of your room. Ignoring just about everything, you moved to grab yourself a cup. Leaning against the counter, you slipped the coffee pot into your free hand, pouring a black cup for yourself. Placing it back, you quickly took your first sip despite your grogginess. 

"Good morrow, Lady Y/N," you could hear to the side of you. 

Nearly dropping your cup, you tightened your grip upon it as your y/e/c gaze shifted to the male who still happened to be in your home. With tired eyes, you studied the male curiously, seeing that not a single hair had been out of place. "You're still here," you mumbled finally, moving to take a sip of your coffee. "Well, since you haven't done anything weird yet, feel free to grab yourself a cup of coffee." 

He chuckled softly at your flustered nature, though his blue eyes traveled to what you had been pointing to. Immediately, the man had a perplexed expression against his face. "What is this?" He asked curiously. 

In a deadpanned look, you allowed a sigh to escape your lips before you reached up to grab a second coffee mug. Setting it down, you grabbed the coffee pot once more, pouring a cup for him. Motioning to the cup, you said, "I'm sure you at least know how a cup works." Allowing an unamused laugh to slip past your lips, you moved further into the kitchen, your cup in hand once more. "I already get that your cosplay is on point. Fine, I'm impressed, even. Don’t make me deal with your role play before I wake up." 

"I am not playing, my Lady," he replied softly, moving to grab the cup gingerly off the counter. Taking a sip of the bitter liquid himself, he begrudgingly swallowed it before moving his blue eyes back to you. "You have a lot of possessions that I have never seen." 

"Let me humor you for a moment," you said, rolling your eyes as you used your free hand to motion. "This is a coffee maker, run by electricity. This is also the 21st century, where just about everything is run by either electricity or gas." Closing your eyes, you took another sip of your coffee before setting it down. "If you truly were who you keep saying you are, my first question would be why you did not have whispers around Winterfell, to realize marrying Sansa Stark off to that idiot was the worst decision you made." 

"I was unaware of his true nature," the man replied with regret in his eyes. "I never would have if I had known." 

"I did say if," you said with an eye roll. "I'm still the furthest from convinced. I have to shoot in a bit, so I don't know, keep yourself entertained or go home. I don't really care by this point." 

"Trusting me is the worst decision you would make, my Lady," he warned coyly. 

"I didn't say I trust you," you replied, finishing up your coffee. "Some random creep, or Petyr Baelish himself, you're still surely a snake. I'm not going to take the day off to deal with this. If you desperately wish to pretend, I'll shove GoT on in the living room to keep you entertained." 

As you spoke, you slipped by the shocked male, moving to grab your remote. On the opposite side of the room to your Iron Throne sat a television, where you flicked Amazon Prime on to Game of Thrones season one. The only indication you had of the man following you was the gentle footsteps behind you. 

"My lady, I don't wish to be rude, but I never told you my first name," he said curiously. 

"Cute," you replied sarcastically. "Anyhow, my Lord, feel free to sit in the Iron Throne and watch season one. Once you feel like telling me why you're here, I guess let me know. I'm going to go work."

For a while, you were able to film undisturbed, thankful that the room you filmed in was soundproofed. After a while, though, you heard a knock upon your cam room door, causing your brows to furrow with aggravation. The knocking came once again, louder than the last, and you moved to turn your camera off. "One second," you called out in annoyance. Pulling your clothes back on, you moved to open the door, eyes narrowed upon your unwanted house guest. "Yes?" 

"Why do you have documentation of everything that has transpired in the last few years?" He spat venomously, clearly aggravated. 

"It's called Amazon Prime," you said in a deadpanned tone. "Either you really get into character, or I'm going crazy, starting to believe that maybe you truly are who you say." 

"I told you before, I am Lord Baelish," he said, clearly growing frustrated. "And you- you have documentation of everything that has transpired, every word I have said in confidence-." 

"Okay, okay, let's get out of my cam room and we can actually talk," you replied exhaustedly, pinching the bridge of your nose as you spoke. The two of you sat upon the couch, his blue eyes seeming impatient all of a sudden. "Alright, my Lord, you're not in your proper world if you truly are who you say. I almost feel bad for making fun of you. I admit that I was wondering why your accent was so perfect, but- Game of Thrones is a form of entertainment. I'm not a spy or anything weird, but this world is much different than yours."

"Why am I here, though?" He questioned curiously. "I should have died, and yet I am here." 

"Well, I'm about as confused as you," you replied sheepishly, shrugging as you spoke. "I thought you were some creepy fan or something." 

"Is this some punishment?" He queried. 

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the couch as your eyes narrowed upon the man. "I would not call myself a punishment," you replied exhaustedly. "I mean, I'm not a Tully, but you can feel free to stay here as long as you have to. I have some men's clothes that should fit you." Letting out a sigh, you glanced to your hands in your lap as you frowned. "I should apologize for treating you like a creep, my Lord. Please forgive me."

One slender hand moved to grasp your hand gently, bringing your hand up to his lips in a gentle kiss. "Petyr," he said softly, a smirk against his lips. "Just call me Petyr, my Lady. There's nothing to forgive, and it would be my honor to learn this world from you. Should you not ask your husband before offering to stay, though?" 

"You have a lot to learn of this new world," you replied with an eye roll. "And I'm unmarried."

*** 

After about a week of working around Petyr for your schedule, making sure to teach him the basic necessities of the world, you had been sitting upside down upon the Iron Throne, legs crossed in the air as you allowed your y/h/c locks to sway below you. Y/e/c orbs shifted from your phone screen to Petyr, whom had been deep into one of your books. Swallowing hard, you finally broke the comfortable silence. "What do I, uh, call you to people?" You questioned, flipping yourself back into a normal position. 

"Lord Baelish would be fine," he said with furrowed brows, placing his hand in the spot he had been in on your book before glancing upon you. "Who would you be speaking of about me?" 

"On top of the obvious fact that using your name would not be fine," you replied with an exasperated tone, "but I guess I could just call you my roommate." Placing a finger to your chin, you grimaced at the thought. "Friends, and, or family. I have those, every now and again, and I can't just avoid them." 

"What exactly is a roommate?" He questioned, quirking a brow. 

Forcing yourself not to roll your eyes, you stood to your feet, shoving your phone in your pocket. "Pretty much what you are," you said with a shrug. "Shares the same space, without an actual relation to one another. Normally that doesn't apply to cross-dimensional rifts, but I prefer keeping that our little secret." 

"Keeping secrets, my Lady?" Petyr asked with a smirk. "I presume you do not trust them?" 

"Maybe the slightest more than you," you replied with a playful smirk. "But no, no. My mother despises my income choices, as does my sister, and friends come and go." 

"In my world, you would be considered a whore," Petyr reminded with a shrug. "Though your fancy technology makes it so you are pleasing men from afar." 

"I have no shame in my work," you replied, rolling your eyes. Allowing a huff to escape your lips, you had not even met blue eyes as you fished your hand into your pocket. "I need to go get ready. I'll try to keep them away, and if you need anything, please ask to see me alone instead of openly asking what something is." You allowed a soft chuckle to escape your lips as you continued. "No matter how cute it is, anyone who doesn't understand is going to be weird about it." 

Petyr had not known exactly what you had meant, nor did you plan to warn him of who was coming to see you. You knew as well as he that he had not known nearly enough about this new world to properly interact with anyone, so you had been quick to answer the door. If you had any luck, you would be able to trail your friends to your recreational room without them even noticing the elder male reading upon the Iron Throne. 


End file.
